


The Enemy (of My Enemy Is My Friend)

by acowlorsomething (suchlostcreatures), suchlostcreatures



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Universe, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Slow Burn, Space Virgins, TRoS doesn't exist, UST, forced to work together to survive, trapped on a hostile planet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchlostcreatures/pseuds/acowlorsomething, https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchlostcreatures/pseuds/suchlostcreatures
Summary: An outer rim skirmish between the First Order and the Resistance takes an unexpected turn when Trandoshan hunters find themselves with two highly prized captives from both sides. Rey and Kylo discover they must work together to escape the hunting ground…Inspired by The Clone Wars, Season 3, Ep 21. Set after The Last Jedi.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 140
Kudos: 172
Collections: Reylo Hidden Gems





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to the amazing [The Original Suki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOriginalSuki/pseuds/TheOriginalSuki) for her incredible encouragement and for beta'ing this trainwreck. :)
> 
> This fic will be posted weekly on Sunday mornings (eh, that's Sunday for me in New Zealand) because I'm actually far enough ahead in writing a story (for once) to have an actual regular posting schedule - yay!

_An outer rim skirmish between the First Order and the Resistance takes an unexpected turn when Trandoshan hunters find themselves with two highly prized captives from both sides. Rey and Kylo discover they must work together to escape the hunting ground…_

_Inspired by The Clone Wars, Season 3, Ep 21._

**Prologue**

The two captives are an unexpected windfall for the Trandoshan hunters. Even if they can’t quite be sure of what they have; bound and sedated in their cargo hold.

The woman is clearly a Jedi, insists one. He brandishes the weapon retrieved from her belt and nearly decapitates his closest comrade when he ignites the saber’s thrumming blade and slices it through the air.

The other must also be a Jedi, declares another, holding the black hilt of a second saber with more trepidation than his crewmate. Or perhaps a Sith. Were they not the wearers of black robes?

There are no Jedi anymore, argues a third. Nor Sith. These people, they’re just –

Important. Interrupts a fourth and final Trandoshan. He stares at the bleeps on a display. There’s a lot of noise on the grid, he warns. Whoever they are, they’ve got the First Order looking for them. _And_ the Resistance. The sooner we drop them on Wasskah, the better.

I’ve never hunted a Jedi, says the first one in awe as he drives the blue blade with experimental caution through the back of an empty seat and thrills at the molten hole it leaves in the transparisteel frame. But I know it was a Jedi who murdered my great-Uncle. I’ll enjoy avenging his death.

**III II I III I**

* * *

**Chapter One**

“Scavenger.”

The word sluices through the inky black depths of Rey’s consciousness. Wrenching her awareness towards the surface with a violent snap.

It’s a cheap shot. To slander her when she’s down. She opens her mouth to say as much. Or tries to. The words sit thick upon her tongue then slide away. Submerging into the darkness. The effort is too much.

The ink swirls and stills. Her mind slips back into the deep.

“Desert rat.”

Barely an insult. Barely worth the twitch of an eyelid.

“Get. Up.”

Something nudges her ribs. Hard. That does the trick. She winces. Tries to lift an arm to bat away the offending… Whatever it is. The limb hangs useless in the air before slamming down again. Surely this appendage isn’t her own, she thinks groggily. It’s too heavy. Breathing is too heavy. Everything is too heavy.

“Well. Some Jedi you’ve turned out to be.”

Now, _these_ are words that cause her head to jerk.

No, that’s still not it. It’s actual movement jerking her head. The sudden, stomach-churning whirl of momentum as her body is hefted up and an involuntary gasp of air drags into her bruised and aching lungs before her stomach slams into something hard and angular - thumping it out again.

A shoulder, her brain offers sluggishly.

A shoulder, she agrees with herself as the firm press of fingers tighten against the back of her knees.

Each footstep sends a jolt of discomfort through her body. She thinks, perhaps, she might be sick. Where the hell even is she?

Forcing her eyes to open, she wills them to focus. Then abruptly slams them shut once they do. The ass end of a billowing black cape is not what she was hoping to see.

She definitely thinks she’s going to be sick.

It’s just as well the inky darkness reclaims her first.

* * *

* * *

Light as the girl may be, it soon becomes an effort to carry her. Bad enough that his head feels cleaved in two. Bad enough his body aches and shudders with bone-deep fatigue. That each limb feels cast in lead. That the air is thick and humid and his lungs feel squeezed to half-capacity. All of these things are bad enough.

But having to pick his way over tangles of thick ancient tree roots and push through damp grasping foliage with an additional 110lb slung over his shoulder? That's a new level of self-flagellation.

So why not leave her, he asks himself as he settles his unconscious burden into the hollowed curve of a fallen tree. Why not let her be picked off by whatever wild creatures live on this sodden world, he wonders; settling himself upon a sunken bough nearby.

Weary beyond measure of his internal monologue, Kylo Ren ignores his own conscience and takes stock of his surroundings. It’s just as well he has no one left to answer to, right now, but himself.

* * *

* * *

“Wake up. This is just ridiculous now.”

This time, when that scathing voice punctures the ink, Rey's eyes open with a snap. Overhead, huge trees loom; their great boughs twisting and reaching like long grasping fingers. Their trunks even wider than the great Uneti tree of Ahch-To. She blinks hard, searching the thick canopy for scraps of sky as she attempts to make sense of her surroundings.

“Finally.”

There is a certain unmistakable timbre to the voice that causes a distinct shiver to chase itself down the length of Rey’s spine. Tumbling from her resting spot, she tries to roll into a defensive crouch, only to find herself wracking forward and swallowing hard against a surge of nausea that hits her from the effort.

“ _You_.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she inhales deep through her nose; her senses instantly assaulted by the heady aroma of rotting leaves and sweet pungent soil. Her stomach heaves, and she silently wills herself not to vomit over her hands.

Get up, get on your damn feet, she silently commands herself. Any moment, she thinks, the crackle of the Supreme Leader’s saber is going to flare to life. Any moment, he’s going to run it through flesh and bone. And the sharp tang of bile in her throat will be the last of her worries.

The thought is enough to unfurl her from the forest floor.

Kylo sits nearby, his posture like a lightning rod as he watches her. His gloved fingers dig into the lichen-covered bough he sits upon. She blinks hard. Unsure of why his body is set in such rigid tension. As if he’s waiting for _her_ to make a strike.

“What…” her tongue works over the roof of her mouth, searching for moisture. “What are you doing?”

“What. Am I doing.” He repeats tightly. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m taking you on a date.”

His sarcasm slides over her as she squints against the press of twisted trees that surround them. Panic slams into her as a volley of disjointed images penetrate the blanks of her mind and she remembers where she should be.

"Where the hell am I?" The words tear like fire from her throat. She makes it to her knees before a wave of vertigo hits. “Where’s my squadron? What have you _done_?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. I’ve done nothing.” His tone is carefully controlled, but the weariness seeps through. “In that order.”

It’s the slow dull edge to his voice that catches her attention and momentarily stills her. Her gaze snaps to the darksider; taking in the mottled bruising on his face. The drying blood caked at his brow. He’s injured and exhausted. She can read it plain as day in the deep hollows beneath his eyes. The way his breath hitches a little with each intake - and the wince he tries to hide as it does so.

All the easier to take him down, she thinks.

Mouth pressed in a determined line, Rey pushes herself to her feet and reaches for Han’s blaster at her belt. Cold panic surges up her spine as her fingers grab at nothing. She steps towards the Supreme Leader, stumbling as her brain takes several seconds longer than it should to register the movement.

“Before you ask,” Kylo holds up a hand in supplication, “it wasn’t me.”

“How,” she begins fiercely, “do you expect me to believe it could be anyone else?”

“We were attacked!” he snaps, the hand now curling into a fist and thumping the gnarled bough he sits upon. “The First Order, the Resistance… Someone blindsided us both, took our weapons, dumped us on this asswipe of a planet… And I’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours now trying to work out _how_.”

“Wow,” Rey says finally, arching a brow in disbelief, “your interrogation tactics have certainly grown more elaborate. Whatever happened to just strapping me in a chair and rifling through my brain?”

“No. Listen.” Kylo leaves his seat and steps in closer. There’s a raw intensity to the darksider’s expression that has Rey reaching again for a weapon that’s not at her side.

“You didn’t just launch an escape pod and wind up on this planet, marooned and weaponless, any more than I did. We’re the two most powerful Force-users in the galaxy. How is _this_ ,” he throws out an arm, gesturing to the dense forest surrounding them, “even possible?”

“I get what you’re reaching for here,” Rey says slowly, forcing herself to hold her ground against his intensity, “but I’d prefer you reach for it back in your own comfort zone. Assuming you have one,” she adds with a mutter.

He blinks, looking through her for a moment before understanding dawns and he moves back to the bough. He favours his left arm, she notices. And holds his head as though it pains him to move his neck.

It gives her a small degree of comfort to know she can probably outrun him. Though where to, she has no idea.

Moving to lean against a knotted tree trunk, she slides to the ground and draws her knees up to her chest. There’s too much to process. She can’t make sense of what Kylo’s saying or why there’s a disturbing amount of emptiness in her mind where short-term memories should be.

But there’s one thing that stands out clearly.

“It was _your_ Destroyer that intercepted us en route to Kashyyyk. I remember that much. This attack… you must have been a part of it. Why else would you be there?” Rey’s focus drifts as she reaches again to fill in the blanks of what came next. “How can I not remember anything after that?”

“Contrary to what you might want to believe, we weren’t there for _you_ ,” Kylo sneers, “the Resistance is made up of, what? A handful of X-wings held together with glue and tape and the scrap heap remains of a smuggler’s freighter? You’re hardly a blip on our...”

“Okay then,” she interrupts, “let’s try this. If you weren’t in the Kashyyyk system for us, why were you there? The Mytaraor sector is a long way from Bacrana, which is where you’ve been of late, isn’t it?”

“How did you --”

“Your ship isn’t exactly difficult to keep tabs on.”

Kylo gives her a long, considering look. Despite her show of confidence, Rey feels a trickle of nervous sweat slip down her back to pool at the base of her spine. It’s been three months since Crait. Three months since she rejected his hand. Three months since he further embraced the Darkside and made the extermination of the Resistance his personal vendetta. And while she’s grown stronger in her Force abilities, she’s yet to match herself against Kylo Ren.

She wonders if he’s reaching the same conclusion.

“How about I take a guess then,” he says unexpectedly, relaxing the hand that has curled and flexed at his side. “You were accompanying Chewbacca to Kashyyk to investigate a certain piece of intel you received. About slavers. Capturing the younglings of a wookie village and selling them to Trandoshan hunters for sport.”

“How could you know all that?” Rey’s heart lurches suddenly.

“I was there for the same reason.” Kylo says after a beat. “But to offer the slavers a better deal than the Trandoshans. For the Wookies.”

Anger flushes through her. “Taking wookie younglings as slaves to build your new empire?” And take out the Resistance coming to their aid at the same time, she finishes inside her head.

“It’s what Hux had in mind, yes.”

“Of course.” She swallows tightly, wishing she’d never been fool enough to expect anything better from this man. “Well, that’s enough lighthearted conversation for one day.”

Pushing to a stand as gracefully as she can with inertia spinning through her head at the movement, Rey slides a hand around a gnarled tree trunk and presses a cheek to the rough bark as she wills the world to stop shifting.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Kylo’s voice draws closer as everything in Rey’s line of vision swims away. “Away from you.” She manages between clenched teeth.

“You know if you just wait it out, the side-effects will wear off.”

She freezes. “Side effects of what? ”

“Doaki spice, Purple Lotus…” Kylo takes another step closer, “something potent enough to take out two Force-users. Why else do you think you're half-dead on your feet?”

“Concussion?” Rey supplies hopefully. “Blunt force trauma?”

“No.”

In a whirl of movement he’s directly behind her. Looming in the peripheral of her half-turned head. “Right here. Do you feel it?”

She recoils at the shock of contact as a gloved finger sweeps the back of her neck.

“If...” she swallows back a grimace, “if uncomfortable is what I’m supposed to be feeling, then yes. Yes, I do.”

“The track mark. Where they injected you,” he steps around her then, drawing back his own tangle of locks and crouching so she can see his nape, “I have one too.”

She’s not sure what she’s supposed to be looking at, at first. She only knows that the man who has become one of the biggest threats to her existence is almost kneeling before her, and there’s a ridiculously tiny chance that she might actually be able to wrap her hands around his throat and at least _half_ choke him before he body-slams her into a tree.

The odds are worth it, she figures.

Then a small red lump on the back of his neck captures her attention, and she finds herself gingerly gathering away a few stray ebony strands to expose the single puncture wound within it.

“See?” his voice is terse as he flinches from the trace of her fingers, “we’re both in this.”

“Or, you’re trying to trap me,” she snaps, releasing the locks and stepping back to the edge of the small clearing.

“Into what?” spinning to face her, Kylo throws out his arms in exasperation. “A game of hide and seek? Do I look that desperate for friends?”

A snort escapes her, “yes?”

She likes the way his cheeks dimple suddenly. Fleetingly. Before he has a chance to catch himself. The tension between them dissipates a little, before reforming itself anew.

“Rey…” Kylo pauses, working his mouth as if her name has left a trace upon his tongue, “someone’s playing a game with us. I think if we work toge--”

The pitched shriek of a startled creature punctures the air, cutting off Kylo’s words as the reverberating cry sets a frantic flurry of sound and movement throughout the canopy overhead.

“Come on,” he glances up into the trees, “maybe whoever left us here has come back. Better we find them first.”

“We?”

Kylo steps towards her until he’s a few feet away. The edge of her comfort zone. Despite the confidence he tries to exude, there’s a tension to his stance.

Just run, a small insistent voice whispers at the back of Rey’s head. Turn around, pick a direction, and run.

“I’m not asking you to rule the galaxy at my side, Rey,” he says with a note of exasperation, “I’m just asking for a temporary ceasefire so we can get off this damn planet.”

“We’re not going to leave this planet as anything less than enemies.” She says bluntly. To herself as much to him.

“No. We’re not.” He agrees, as if it goes without saying. “But like it or not, we’re in this together. Seems to me we stand a better chance of getting out of here if we can focus on picking off a mutual enemy, rather than each other.”

“If you think you can kill me when my back is turned, I’ll rip off your --”

“To be honest, I’ve already considered that at least seven times since I started lugging your unconscious body through this forest.” He arches a brow. “You’re not dead yet.”

It’s a good point, she has to admit. Still, she stands on a precipice of indecision; every fibre of her being poised to run. Run. Except for her legs. The muscles of which are still as jittery as a Hutt’s belly, she discovers as she flexes them experimentally.

Swallowing hard, Rey shoots Kylo a sidelong glance. He’s standing rigidly still. Fists curled slightly at his sides. The crease at his brow showing a trace of worry in a face otherwise carefully schooled of expression.

Steeling herself, she meets his eyes - and that’s where she finds all those kriffin’ emotions he’s carefully stashed away. _Hope, expectancy, trepidation…_ It’s like facing him in Snoke’s throne room again. All that’s missing is the outstretched hand.

“Fine.” The word escapes her in a rush of breath before she can change her mind.

His shoulders visibly relax as the tightness around his eyes falls away.

Something spears her then. Right through the heart.

She falters, reminding herself of that moment he chose to let her friends and the last of his family die. “Betray me and I’ll kill you.” The words hiss through her lips, fuelled by sudden anger.

He nods, slowly exhaling a long-held breath. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

**II III I II**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been my baby for a year or so now. Initially, my plan was to complete it entirely before posting, but now that I have 5 chapters finished and a further 3 _nearly_ wrapped up, I feel that if I start posting weekly now, I should be able to keep on top of new chapters before they're due for posting. 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this so far. I might change my posting schedule to twice-weekly if I get far ahead enough in writing the rest. Otherwise... See you next Sunday, I hope! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [TheOriginalSuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOriginalSuki/pseuds/TheOriginalSuki) and [the-east-sea](https://the-east-sea.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this chapter. I really appreciate you two for the feedback and for catching the bits I've missed. :)
> 
> Thank you also to the lovely folks who have left comments or kudos. I really appreciate reading feedback and appreciate the reassurance in knowing a story is being read, rather than disappearing into a void. It's been difficult holding out until Sunday to post this next chapter rather than just pop it up mid-week, but I know that if I'm not careful I'll wind up with the published chapters catching up with the unwritten chapters and I'm hoping to avoid that conundrum.

Rey knows the burn of hot sand upon bare skin. The way the scalding grains find their way through fabric layers to sear and scratch and chafe. She knows the scorching heat of the desert sun. The endless barrage of wind. The thirst. The hunger…

Rey knows the desert all too well.

She doesn’t know the jungle.

“Forest.” Kylo corrects when she comments on the suffocating press of the great twisting trees. “A jungle is different.” Though he doesn’t elaborate as to why.

“Either way,” she huffs; bracing herself as she ducks under limbs contorted by their endless search for the light. She’d take hot sand and relentless sun over the cold repression of trees, any day.

There’s something about the forest that makes Rey feel deeply uncomfortable. Time loses any means of measurement within the grainy depths of brooding trees. Is it morning? Afternoon? Dappled light filters through thick branches and fat leaves, giving the impression of perpetual dusk. And perhaps that’s accurate? Hours feel to have passed since waking. Night should be on its way soon, if darkness even falls upon this world.

Rey winces as a wave of nausea washes over her. It should give her something to be grateful for, she thinks. At least it keeps the hunger pangs at bay. Though hunger itself could be a measurement of time in normal circumstances.

Ahead, Kylo seems determined to hide the limp he set off with, and she wonders if it’s because she walks at his back. Though she suspects pride would cause him to hide his weaknesses even if he walked alone.

Chewing her lip, Rey studies the shifting muscles beneath the swing of Kylo’s cloak, and weighs up his willingness to turn his back on her. Is it that he trusts his ability to overpower her, should she attack? Or is it that he trusts _her_? Either answer is an uncomfortable one.

Overhead, forest animals continue to shriek their intermittent warnings, and half-seen flashes of movement catch the outskirts of Rey’s vision - as if the creatures are keeping pace. Inwardly, she speculates if someone is really out there, or if the inhabitants have just slept all day and only now realised intruders have breached their territory.

Despite the incessant noise in the treetops, Rey can’t help but feel acutely aware of the chasm of silence that rests at ground level. Smack between her and Kylo Ren. The weight of it sits like a load upon her shoulders, shifting and resettling with each step, until she feels buckled by the burden of it.

Several times she finds herself opening her mouth to say something - anything - only to snap her jaws shut on empty air. There are no words to fill the silence. None that won’t lead to accusations and argument, anyway.

Finally, a noise of irritation scrapes Kylo’s throat before he spins on his heel to face her. “Whatever it is you want to say, can you get it done already?”

“What?” Rey gapes, floundering.

He rolls his eyes, “I’m sick of the deep sighing.”

“I wasn’t sighing,” even to her own ears, she sounds churlish. Shifting uncomfortably on her feet, she moves to pass him, “and there’s nothing I want to say to you.”

“Really?” Kylo raises an eyebrow and steps in her path, “no urge to ask about my father again? No desire to enquire about --”

“There’s _nothing_ I want to say to you.” Biting her lip, Rey takes a breath and adds, “I’m just unnerved by the forest. I’m not used to feeling pressed from all sides…” she stops herself again, realising she’s only revealing a small string of weaknesses for him to use against her.

“Fine.” Forcing herself to meet Kylo’s solemn brown eyes, she pulls her chin up, “I do have a question.”

He raises a brow before inclining his head. Hesitant. As if half-dreading what might come out of her mouth now that he’s invited her to open it.

“Do you have any idea what planet we’re on?” The words fly in a half-thought-out rush. It’s not what she really wants to ask, but she’s not sure either of them are ready for ‘why did you save me’ yet, and it’s probably a question best left alone anyway.

“Planet?” Kylo repeats slowly, exhaustion draining his voice despite his efforts to appear stoic, “I couldn’t even tell you what system we’re in.”

“Right. Well. That’s that, then.” She moves again to pass him.

“Wait,” he moves to stop her. This time with a hand to her arm, “whoever brought us here - they had the perfect opportunity to kill us. Instead, they dumped us on a backwater of a planet. There has to be a reason why.”

He’s not even angry about the situation, Rey realises suddenly. Wherever they are - however they got here - he’s surprisingly level-headed about it all; more preoccupied on working through the puzzle than to plot revenge.

For a moment Rey’s reminded of their first Force connection - of Kylo’s almost boyish curiosity in how it all worked, while her only thought had been to take the opportunity to try and kill him. She pulls her gaze away, not wanting to be reminded of the conversations that eventually followed. Of how she’d trusted him so blindly.

“To hide us while they play both sides?” she offers finally, extracting herself from his grasp. “To hold us for ransom?”

“Hux would never arrange ransom for me,” Kylo’s voice tightens; the anger breaking through at last, “my death or disappearance would suit him too well.”

It takes Rey some effort to clamp her teeth shut. The urge to suggest what that says about his character and the company he keeps contorts upon her trapped tongue. Though by the weighted silence that follows, she suspects he knows this already.

“So, your theory? I’m assuming you have one.”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters darkly, “they wouldn’t dare.”

Rey watches Kylo through narrowed eyes. A scowl knits his brow and she chews at her lip, curiosity thoroughly piqued. But she lets it go. For now. And shifts her attention to the treetops. The nearby animals still shriek intermittently, but like a passing wave, the full brunt of their ruckus seems to have shifted further into the forest.

“Hey, you know what we should do? Rest.” Without waiting for a reply, Rey drops herself into a thick layer of leaf mulch at the base of a tree and rests her head against the trunk. The atmosphere feels heavy on this planet, as if it’s endlessly striving to pull her into its core. Her body aches, her stomach still churns with spasms of sickness from the tranquiliser, and she’s so damned tired she can barely _think_ for want of sleep.

But even with her eyes closed, she can feel the weight of Kylo’s stare. “Sit down.” Picking up a handful of well-rotted leaves, she slogs them in his direction before cracking open an eyelid to see if they hit their mark.

“We should find water. Food. Shelter. And _then_ rest.” He counters, ignoring the fragile fluttering skeleton leaves that cling to the edges of his cape. Rey can tell he’s doing his best to maintain a neutral tone, but the weariness seeps through.

“Feel free to carry on without me,” she waves at him with a lazy hand, “I’m used to going without water, food, and refuge. Rest on the other hand…”

She cracks open the other eyelid to fix him with a stare just as determined as his own. He pulls his gaze away first and makes a pretense of scanning their surroundings; lips pressing in a grim line that must surely mean he’s going to leave her or throw her over his shoulder again.

But he surprises her by doing neither.

“You rest. I’ll take first watch,” he mutters, sliding down against a nearby tree trunk where he sprawls his legs before him, expression resolute.

For a moment Rey stares. Dark shadows ring Kylo’s eyes, blending into the mottled bruising. A small part of her wonders if he was attacked before or after their captors managed to tranquilize him. The larger part of her is too bone-weary right now to care.

“Sure,” she shrugs finally, closing her eyes. The words puddle into a slur. “Just gimme fifteen and I’ll be good to go.”

* * *

As the peace of the forest settles around them, nearby birds pick up the songs they previously abandoned. Kylo scans the canopy before returning his attention to Rey as if she’s a puzzle he can’t quite crack.

He wonders if she’s aware of how many times he’s tried to skim her thoughts while they’ve been walking. How many times he tested their Force Bond to try and pluck information from her head while she was unconscious. All to no avail. Either she’s learnt to barrier her mind against him or the drug has affected their connection.

After three months of feeling the brush of her conscience at the peripheral of his thoughts or seeing her manifest in the midst of his cruiser before one has turned their back on the other, he’s not sure whether or not the loss of that bridge is something he will mourn, should it turn out to be permanent.

“I can feel you watching me, you know,” she murmurs, eyes still closed. “I thought you were watching the forest.”

“I thought you were trying to sleep,” he retorts, sliding his gaze away.

“I’m too nauseous for sleep. Besides, I keep thinking…” she snaps her eyes open then, to scowl at him, “if we were both knocked out with the same drug, how do you seem so impervious to it? You were favouring your arm, earlier. Now even _that_ seems to have fixed itself.”

Kylo shrugs. Unlike the self-taught Jedi before him, he’s learnt to use pain as a weapon. A tool to sharpen his focus. He insulated the cramping nausea to little more than a dull ache. Pushed through the spinning dizziness. How else could he have carried her? How else could he have carried himself?

It’s not the pain that wounds him. It’s the powerlessness of knowing someone managed to infiltrate his ship - _his_ ship - and take him out so effectively. It’s the huge fog bank in his short-term memory that, for all his skill, he can’t sift through. It’s the humiliation of all these things that causes him injury. Physical pain is nothing in comparison.

“Training.” He says finally. “Something I recall offering you.”

Rey has nothing to say to that.

* * *

The silence that falls between them once more lasts only as long as it takes for Rey to consider Kylo’s earlier revelation - now that she’s had time to reflect upon it.

“So,” she begins, “about buying wookies for slavery…”

The darksider groans and leans his head back against the tree trunk, eyes cast towards a sky hidden by trees. “I said it was what _Hux_ had in mind. I never said I agreed.”

“I’m sorry,” Rey snorts, “which of you is the Supreme Leader again?”

“I was _trying_ to prevent the damn wookies from becoming game for the hunters!” The words ricochet through the forest as Kylo’s temper snaps, instantly silencing the nearby birdsong. He stands then, moving behind the small clearing with an offended air.

It occurs to Rey that she should’ve toned back the attitude; given there’s a reasonable chance they’ll have to camp together for the night, and it’d be best not to push their loose alliance too far least she spends her entire night awake and awaiting his revenge.

But she can’t help herself. Backing down is just not her forte.

“And letting Hux get his hands on them was going to be any better?” she presses, rising to follow him. “I mean, do you really expect me to believe you’ve become an advocate for the welfare of wookies?”

“You know what?” Kylo swings about, eyes blazing as he faces her, “I couldn’t care less what you believe. I don’t have to justify anything to you.”

“Of course you don’t,” Rey hisses, “you’re the _Supreme Leader_ now. You hold yourself accountable to no one!”

“You know, if you’d taken the damn intel and got there in time to stop the slavers from capturing them in the first place, I would never have had to try and subvert --”

“What do you mean if we’d taken the intel?” Rey’s heart lurches suddenly. “How could you know of what intel we receive?”

Lips pressed into a firm line, Kylo frowns as if the answer should somehow be obvious to her. “Sometimes the enemy of your enemy is your friend,” he offers finally.

For several moments they face one another in silence. Eyes shining fiercely with the righteousness of their causes.

It’s in this silence that they both notice the birdsong has yet to resume. And the hollering fracas in the most distance of treetops has drawn to an abrupt halt. The stillness left in its wake is strange and plunging; as if a giant breath has been taken. And held.

Rey shivers. “Did you do that?”

“Silence all the forest animals with an innocuous wave of my hand?” Kylo snorts, “I’m not sure. Maybe you should go check the forest floor for dead creatu--”

The rumble of a craft breaks his retort.

“Get down!”

Rey finds herself being dragged into the midst of large-leaved foliage as the rumble draws closer.

“What are you doing?” she hisses, pulling herself free, “maybe it’s someone who can help us?”

“Maybe,” Kylo replies in a tone that implies that’s the least likely scenario. “But I doubt it. In fact, I have a bad --”

“Don’t say it!” Rey interrupts suddenly.

“-- feeling about this.” He finishes with a shrug, dark eyes turning to her in confusion at her withering glare. “What?”

She gapes, protests evaporating on her tongue. That damn innocent expression and nonchalant twist of a grin... This, she thinks suddenly, is what Ben Solo might have been like, had the fierce visage of Kylo Ren not risen to take his place.

“Nothing,” she mutters, casting her gaze away. “It doesn’t matter now.”

The grumble of the approaching vehicle squashes any further talk, and Rey finds herself at risk of losing circulation to an arm as Kylo’s hand clamps her bicep and holds her fast.

A volley of blastershots puncture the forest as approaching voices whoop in excitement.

“Those trandoshan bastards!” The deep timbre of Kylo’s growl rumbles at her ear, sending a flush of warmth across her cheek and flurry of goosebumps across her skin.

“Trandoshans?” Rey repeats slowly, understanding dawning in a way that makes her stomach plummet. She swivels to face him, taking care to not give away their location with the rustle of leaves. “You think we were captured by one of their hunting parties?”

Kylo doesn’t answer. Instead, a look of absolute predatory rage lights his face. Releasing her arm, he moves to step out from beneath the foliage and confront the hunters.

This time it’s Rey who reaches out to lay a placating hand. “Wait, it can’t be that easy. They must know who we are. They must know the risk they take in hunting us - like you said earlier, we’re the strongest Force-users in the galaxy. There must be something… Something we’re missing.”

A muscle spasms beneath Kylo’s left eye as he considers her words. She can see the effort it takes him to hold his ground and do nothing as the vehicle draws closer, and she silently wills him to stay still and let it pass.

“Fine.” Kylo allows her to draw him back, cautiously creeping further into the dense foliage as the vehicle rumbles into sight. “We’ll follow them. With luck, they’ll lead us to a way off this planet.”

“Good call,” Rey exhales a long breath as she loosens her hold on his arm. It flusters her - how quick they are to reach for each other, and she folds her arms around herself, tucking her hands into her armpits to keep them from betraying her again.

Kylo crouches lower beneath the foliage, oblivious to her sudden self-consciousness. “Then we’ll take them captive,” he continues darkly, “and find out who the hell is behind this.”

“Fantastic.” Tucking herself beneath a leaf almost the size of her body, Rey thinks of the ways in which Kylo can flay open a mind to lay bare the truth of what lies within a person. It’s wrong. A darkside technique, no doubt. But in this circumstance… Perhaps the lines of light and dark can blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trandoshans](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Trandoshan) \- Renown for their hunting skills, these reptilian humanoids have had a long history with the Wookies, who they've abducted and turning loose upon their hunting grounds in the past. Jedi padawans are another exotic challenge for them.
> 
> [Wasskah](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Wasskah) \- The forest moon of Trandosha which serves as a hunting ground for the Trandoshan hunting guild.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [TheOriginalSuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOriginalSuki/pseuds/TheOriginalSuki) and [the-east-sea](https://the-east-sea.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this chapter. :)
> 
> I'm posting this ahead of Sunday's schedule because I thought those who've been following this story might like another chapter to add to this week's lockdown reading list. (Is everyone else still in lockdown in your neck of the woods? Who isn't?)

  


Tucking themselves deeper into heavy foliage, Rey and Kylo peer through large leaf fenestrations as an airspeeder glides overhead.

Kylo is right. The occupants are Trandoshan. Their reptilian features are unmistakable. One sits behind a blaster cannon in the front of the vehicle while two scouts lean against the rear cage, scanning the surroundings with slugthrowers resting loosely in their scaled hands.

“Now,” Kylo breathes after the vehicle passes, but Rey is already half out from beneath their cover and picking her way across the forest floor, weaving and ducking to stay out of sight of the scouts.

Following the trandoshans is easier said than done. The airspeeder glides high enough to avoid the tumbling roots and fallen logs that cause a never-ending array of obstacles for Rey and Kylo to leap over. And while the trees grow large and spread their branches wide enough for the vehicle to easily pass through, it must frequently adjust its direction to navigate the low twisting limbs and thick hanging vines.

“I think we’re losing them,” Rey huffs as the vehicle slips further from sight, doubling over as nausea washes over her anew. 

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll be back.” Kylo grunts, tugging his cloak from a branch. “We’ll find a safe place to rest for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out what the hell is going on.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Rey slows and slings herself across a low hanging bough, closing her eyes as she drags in a breath. “So long as this safe place involves access to a ‘fresher, a bottle of Corellian whiskey, and a warm bed. In that order.”

“Corellian whiskey, huh?”

Rey cracks open an eyelid, “Your father ordered a crate of it aboard the Falcon right before you invaded Takodana,” she admits, “I’ve been slowly making my way through it ever since.”

Kylo is silent and Rey wonders what kind of memories the mention of Han has brought up for him. The idyllic childhood that he so carelessly threw away? Of travelling the galaxy upon the lap of his father? Or the moment when he plunged his lightsaber into the older man’s chest and sent him toppling into the core of an exploding planet?

She waits, quietly preparing a retort for some kind of ‘don’t call him my father’ rebuke. But he surprises her by holding his tongue.

* * *

A safe place to rest for the night. Easier said than done, Rey thinks, as the shadows begin to lengthen and the press of the forest becomes tighter. When dusk falls upon them, it does so quickly; plunging the forest into a heavy gloom as they move deeper into the thicker areas of vegetation where they assume the craft can’t follow them.

“I’m beginning to think we should have taken our chances out in the open,” Rey mutters, half to herself.

“I’m beginning to think you’re afraid of trees,” Kylo says dryly, though there's a lightness to his tone that causes her to smile, despite herself.

"Yeah, you're not wrong, I suppose," she admits with a shrug, "after a lifetime of open-air and windswept dunes, the rain forest makes me feel kind of..."

"Claustrophobic?"

"That's the one."

The silence that resumes between them is a little more amiable than previously. Kylo clears his throat, "I know what you mean. I've spent so much of my adult life on star destroyers and... um..."

Rey shoots him a sidelong glance as he stutters to a halt, no doubt recognising the dangerous territory he's walking into by trying to relate his life to her own.

"You know whata, forget it," he says finally, grimacing as he increases his pace.

"Uh-huh." 

* * *

The chitters and squawks that have accompanied them throughout the day drop away as the forest’s animals prepare themselves for the approaching night. In turn, new creatures begin to make themselves known; their strange, throaty cries coming from ground level, as though rising from the muck of the rainforest floor.

Rey sticks out her tongue, chasing droplets of water from the tips of large waxy leaves as she passes; the moisture a crisp relief to her parched throat. Hungrily, her stomach gurgles, reminding her of its emptiness now that the nausea has passed. 

“Just wait,” she scolds.

“Huh?” Kylo catches his step and slows.

“Not you, my stomach.”

He turns to regard her quietly. “We might have some luck in catching toads?” he offers with little conviction.

“It’s alright,” she murmurs, waving him onwards, “it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

Kylo pulls his gaze away, biting his lip as if troubled by her words. Straightening her back, Rey readies herself against any sympathy he might have the nerve to offer. But he nods, turning on his heel towards the path he’s been cleaving through the undergrowth.

“Hey, look,” he stops short suddenly so that Rey has to sidestep him, “animal skrat.”

“Animal skrat?” Rey peers into the direction he’s pointing. “What’s that, something edible?”

“You could try.” Nudging the hard lump with the toe of his boot, Kylo kicks it towards her. “Your scavenger’s palette might enjoy it.”

Her gaze falls upon the wad of pebbled dung at her feet. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers after a beat.

Rey blinks. It almost sounds genuine.

“Quit mucking around,” she sighs, turning in a slow circle to stare through the shadows, “ _you_ may have neatly compartmentalised all your aches and pains, but I need a rest.”

“Actually, the skrat may have helped us find the perfect place.”

“I’m not making a bed in a pile of shit, Kylo.”

“Really? Why not?” 

Rey folds her arms across her chest and glares at his deadpan expression. 

“Okay I’ll explain,” he says lightly, his tone surprisingly enthusiastic. “Whatever creature used this area as a lavatory has done so frequently. I bet you it had a burrow nearby. Perhaps we can borrow it for the night.”

“Are you… Have you been chewing Thyssel bark?” Rey snorts. “Anything with a burrow big enough for both of us is bound to be _bigger_ than us.”

“No, I don’t think so. The scrat is too small --”

“And anything that’s been shitting and sleeping around here is bound to come back!”

“Again, no,” Kylo shakes his head, “this is old dung.”

He pauses at Rey’s gaping stare, before deciding to elaborate. “I spent some time with Luke on a jungle planet before he built his Jedi temple. There wasn’t a lot to do there.”

“Except study animal dung?” Rey asks with a quirk of her brow.

A smile touches the corners of his lips. “Amidst other things, yes.”

“Well,” Rey shrugs finally, “lead on then.” 

Nodding, Kylo pushes on through the dense undergrowth, his efforts made more determined by the invisible trail he now seems to follow.

Darkness draws a new array of scents from the forest. The floral sweetness of a nocturnal flower mingles with the rich earthy aroma of peat moss. Dampness hangs heavy in the air, leaving beads of moisture on the leaves that brush their clothing as they push past so that the chill of night presses deeper into their exhausted bodies. 

“Kylo, it’s too thick in here,” Rey clenches her teeth to stop them from chattering, “surely we’ve caused enough destruction to create a path for the hunters to follow with searchlights.”

Her words are enough to make Kylo slow, but only to push aside vegetation with more care. “Trust me,” his words carry back to her, “I’ll find a safe… here we go.”

Rey steps through after him, into a clearing of compacted earth and flattened vegetation. There’s barely room to stand; the press of low-growing shrubbery seems to have knitted a tangled ceiling above them. 

“Told you I’d find a safe place.”

There's an undertone of boyish pride to Kylo's voice that takes her by surprise. For a long moment she stares towards him through the darkness, her mind blank of words.

“It certainly smells... lived in, she mutters finally, stepping further in to examine the shelter with outstretched hands, “but not for a long time, I don’t think.”

“Perhaps the creature that lived here was nomadic,” he agrees, “it’ll do for us, for tonight.”

“There’s no room for...” drawing a hand across the back of her neck, Rey kneads the ball of nervous tension she can feel forming at the base of her skull, “... for us both to sleep.”

“Would you rather sleep out there?” he says with an edge to his voice as she steps back towards the opening, “to be woken to the teeth of a hungry momong at your face?”

“A momong?” Rey glances to the dark outlines of the wild, twisting forest beyond the shelter. Sceptical. “What’s a _momong_?”

“Furry body. Long limbs. Likes to eat meat,” after a moment's hesitation, he adds, "at least, that’s how Chewbacca described them.”

She starts in surprise. “ _Chewie_ knows this planet?”

“When I was a child, he told me something of a planet like this. His people have a long, dark history with it.”

At the rustle of movement within the shelter, Rey peers through the darkness and makes out the shifting shape of Kylo kicking dry branches to one side.

“You told me you have no idea what solar system we’re in,” she says tightly, unable to keep the sharp edge of suspicion from her voice, “let alone which planet.”

“That was before I found out we have trandoshans hunting us.” The shift of air at Rey’s side causes her to draw back as Kylo moves towards her. “Now it all makes some terrible kind of sense.”

“Uh-huh.” Caught between listening to his explanation and watching him make a bed upon the floor, Rey feels as if the twisted branches of the shelter walls have pressed yet closer towards them. He expects them to share _this_ tiny space? How? She sucks in a breath, wondering if he can hear her heart thundering as loudly as she can.

“Here, take my cloak. I’ll take the entranceway.” Kylo’s words ripple over the stray strands of her hair as he steps towards her and presses a bundle of thick cloth into her hands. 

A protest forms on her lips, though with the cloak warm in her arms and the ground dry underfoot, she can’t quite manage to form it into words. 

“Please, don’t suspect me of being chivalrous by offering the first watch - again,” he says dryly, “I just don’t want to have to carry you a second time if you pass out on your feet tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” it’s a compelling argument, she decides with no small measure of relief. Draping the cloak upon the floor, she tugs free her boots and lets a yawn escape. “I just need an hour or two, and then we’ll swap.”

“Of course.” Kylo moves to sit in the entranceway, his head turned towards the forest as he wraps his arms around drawn-up knees. His silhouette impossibly awkward in the confined space.

The cloak is still warm from the heat of his body, and Rey burrows into it gratefully, drawing it over herself so that she’s cocooned. The thick fabric smells - not unpleasantly - of man musk and earthiness. And the trace of something crisp and faintly botanical. First Order soap, she assumes, where the neckline has rested against the nape of his neck. It’s strange to find comfort in such things. Yet somehow she does.

“Thank you,” she murmurs into the plush folds of darkness. 

Kylo is silent. Perhaps he didn’t hear. 

* * *

When Rey wakes, crisp dawn light has plunged its fingers through the shelter’s woven branches.

And Kylo Ren is nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll still be popping a new chapter up on Sunday. I hope you've enjoyed this one - I'd love it if you could pop in a comment if you have time, and let me know what you think of this fic so far. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's faring well! Thanks for the comments, I appreciate the feedback and encouragement. Also thanks to [TheOriginalSuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOriginalSuki/pseuds/TheOriginalSuki), [the-east-sea](https://the-east-sea.tumblr.com/) and [SassyArtichoke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyArtichoke/pseuds/SassyArtichoke) for the feedback and proof-reading on this ahead of posting. :)

Kylo swats an insect from his face and glares at the fallen log before him as if the weight of his stare alone might cause it to shift.

It doesn’t.

Shaking out his fingers, he reaches out with his right hand. Flexing and extending. Curling his fingers into a fist. Teeth gritting so hard, it makes his jaw ache as he tries to budge it with the Force.

Nothing.

He has tried a hundred times since sunrise to use the Force in one way or another, and all to no avail. There is a strange, still, silence within him now. An uneasy hollow deep within his bones where cosmic energy once thrummed.

For as long as Kylo’s lived, there has never been a time when the Force did not hum like a live wire beneath his skin. As much an essential part of himself as the movement of blood through his veins and the shifting of air in his lungs.

To be without it now is to be without both of these things.

Hot anger pulses at his temple but stirs nothing but a sheen of sweat to his brow. Frustrated, he strides to the log, hauling it up at one end before slinging it into a shallow pond. The _plop_ of its impact causes a slurry of water to wash over his boots and flick muck across his face. He drags the back of his hand across his cheek, smearing it.

A quick movement to his left catches his eye and he whips towards it, only to come face to face with a small furry creature hanging from a bough by its long tail and watching him with large green eyes.

“Stupid momong,” he grumbles, “lucky for you I can’t make a fire. Or else I’d eat you.”

The creature lets off a piercing array of chatter, its lips pulled back tight across small pointed teeth as if the threat is nothing short of amusing.

“Perhaps I’ll eat you after all!” With rage and frustration reaching combustion point, he veers forward, reaching out to snatch the creature from the tree.

“Two days without First Order fodder and _this_ is what you turn into?”

The voice stills Kylo’s hand as a whisper of orange fur slips through his fingers. He spins on his heel to meet the unlikely sight of Rey, standing in the dappled light of the small clearing with his cloak draped over her shoulders; its hem pooling around her feet like a collapsed shadow.

Feeling foolish, he scrubs the outstretched hand across the nape of his neck and blinks at the oval face almost lost beneath the heavy cowl. His mind draws a useless blank as he searches for words, distracted by the way in which the darkness of the thick fabric seems to swallow the girl whole.

“I threatened it out of anger, not hunger,” he manages finally, drawing his hair over his ears in a subconscious gesture as he steals a sidelong look at the would-be Jedi once more. Swathed in _his_ cloak.

The light touch of a smile tugs the corners of Rey’s lips. “Remind me not to pull faces at you then,” she snorts, pushing the hood from her head to reveal a wild tangle of loose auburn locks. Unclasping the cloak, she bundles it up and throws it to him. “Thanks for the lend.”

“You’re welcome,” Kylo catches the heavy wad of fabric as it hits him in the face. “The Knight of Ren look suits you. You should’ve joined me when you had the chance.”

She shoots a sharp scowl as he bites the inside of his cheek. _Idiot_.

“You didn’t wake me for my watch,” she chides, ignoring his comment, “Is that why you’re yelling at six-limbed swamp rats?”

“I believe it was a momong.”

“Thought you described them as a somewhat more terrifying flesh-eating beast last night.”

“Perhaps Chewie’s description was far more terrifying to my nine-year-old mind than I remembered,” he sighs, “besides, wookies always exaggerate.”

“The way you talk of Chewie… It sounds like you two had a great bond,” she says quietly.

It’s only when Kylo stops smiling that he realises he’d been doing so in the first place.

“The pond water is safe to drink. And the plants growing at its edge will provide some nourishment,” he says rigidly, moving to pass her, “if you can handle their bitterness.”

“Oh, I’ve become quite accustomed to bitterness lately.”

The pointed reply is like a barb at Kylo’s back as he walks away. He grits his teeth and ignores the way it needles him.

* * *

The shelter, when Rey returns to it, is almost difficult to find - it’s so well hidden amidst the thicket of undergrowth. She climbs one of the great trees that loom nearby, to find it almost indiscernible from above. Even with the early morning sunlight piercing the trees, if one didn’t know precisely where to look, one would never see it.

“Someone made this,” she states, dropping neatly from a bough, ten feet above.

“A detail I thought we’d established already,” Kylo lugs a branch across the entrance.

“No, I mean, _someone_ made this. As in, a sentient being. Not some wild foraging beast in need of a burrow.”

“Well, I suppose some clever captive of the trandoshans survived here long enough to put together a hut,” he shrugs, “we’ll go a step further and hunt down the hunters. Then get the hell off this planet.”

Rey chews her lip at his words. Their alliance is so fragile. So unexpected. She highly doubts there’ll be a “we” in the equation when the opportunity comes to leave.

“What?” Kylo adds another dirty smudge to his face as he scrubs a hand across it, before dragging his fingers through his hair to rake ebony locks damp with sweat from his brow. “What have I said or done this time?”

A micropause. A hesitant shrug. And then Rey’s grasping for a subject change. “You’re a mess. You should’ve had a bath in that pool when you had the chance.”

“You’re not looking so sparkly yourself, Your Highness,” he scoffs, snatching up his belt from the ground and clipping it into place. “Now let’s get going.”

Rey watches him walk away. And not for the first time considers who he reminds her of in those moments when he forgets what he’s trying to be.

* * *

When the rumble of the airspeeder cuts through the forest, they’re ready for it this time.

The plan is simple. Rey will get the trandoshans’ attention and, being more nimble than Kylo, she’ll lure them through the forest to where he will wait to pull a crude web of vines into the path of the vehicle, crippling it enough for them to launch an attack, overpower their captors and steal their craft.

It’s simple. So simple.

Except that it’s not.

When the trandoshans catch sight of Rey, they launch into pursuit, yipping and yowling in triumph while firing wild shots in a bid to make their quarry give a good chase before the game comes to an end.

Swinging from vines and leaping branches is no longer difficult for Rey, now that the debilitating effects of the tranquillizer have worn off and she’s somewhat-adjusted to the planet’s denser gravity. For a time it seems like the plan is going to work.

She follows a series of pre-established tracks just wide enough for the craft to follow, and perhaps that’s what makes the hunters suspicious. Before Rey can lead them into the area where Kylo waits, they veer off, choosing instead to give up the chase.

“What happened?” Dropping neatly to the bough Rey perches on, Kylo releases a bundle of vines to the forest floor and crouches beside her, a frown marring his brow though it doesn’t seem aimed at her, for once.

“I don’t know.” Rey wipes a thin sheen of perspiration from her forehead, before glancing over her shoulder. “I guess they grew suspicious when I didn’t take the routes they couldn’t follow.”

“Mmm, I guess so,” a thin sigh escapes him, “well, we can’t try to lead them back this way again. I guess we’ll have to carry on and find another way to trap them.”

Rey nods, but her attention is on the dark hollows beneath Kylo’s eyes and she remembers that he’s yet to have a wink of sleep. “Let’s head back to the shelter. It’s time for you to rest, and me to find us something to eat.”

“There’s no time for rest,” he protests, indignant, “we need to keep moving --”

“No.” Rey insists. “The Force alone can’t sustain a person - not even the likes of _you_. We’re going back to the shelter - _no argument_.”

She moves ahead of him then, shifting through the forest with a determined pace. For a long moment, Kylo just stands, baffled by her concern. And worse still, oddly warmed by it. Until he reminds himself that her insistence is based on pragmatism, of course. One does not conquer an enemy on willpower alone. Certainly not when one has been running without food or sleep for two days.

“You coming or not?”

“On my way, Your Highness,” he mutters, blinking himself out of his reverie. And kicks himself into a jog to follow her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kinda short. Shall I post the next chapter mid-week, or wait until Sunday? Let me know your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Post edited for stupid formatting issues._
> 
> This was supposed to be a mid-week post, but... Life. Thanks to the previous comments and encouragement, and thanks to TheOriginalSuki and SassyArtichoke for their invaluable feedback ahead of posting this chapter! _Oh, btw, I made some last-minute changes just ahead of posting - in the form of a few hundred extra words in the opening scene. Heh!_  
>  Ahh, this is me procrastinating on an essay.

The trail back to the shelter is marked by leaves slotted into split twigs that they dismantle as they go. When the ground becomes boggy, they walk backwards; their boots sinking through the mud to leave a false trail for the Trandoshans, should they come across it. Between the sticky humidity of the forest and the growing discomfort of hunger and thirst, the return journey feels a hundred times more difficult. Their hair is wet with sweat, their clothing sticks in places it shouldn’t. Soon all Rey can think about is how thick and dry her mouth feels. That, and whether momongs are edible.

On occasion, they support each other in their scramble through the pressing forest; a hand at an elbow where the ground is too slick with moss and algae, quick fingers to untangle plants that cling with tiny grasping spines and itch where they touch the skin… They do these things in silence. Their attention on the task at hand.

Not daring for a moment to consider that they might be grateful for each other.

Though several hours have passed since they first set off to try and trap the Trandoshans, the angle of sunlight spearing through the trees suggests the sun has barely tracked across the sky.

“The length of a day runs longer on this planet, I suppose.” Kylo shrugs when Rey voices her observations aloud, though he slows his pace; his interest piqued by the topic. “A standard twenty-four-hour day is normal for most planets, but it can range from eighteen to thirty-” he stops, turning back to glance at her with a sheepish look, “you probably know all this.”

“Actually I don’t. Not entirely.” Rey says quietly. “All that I know, I taught myself - from whatever information I managed to decrypt from the computer systems I salvaged. That’s not to say I didn’t learn about other planets,” she says quickly, “but certainly… There are gaps.”

“Huh.” Kylo is quiet for a time. “Well, I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorts, “that was sarcasm.”

But his tone is light, and Rey gives him a playful shove.

“That was a compliment.” she grins.

Kylo doesn’t protest.

* * *

A stream of brackish water quenches their thirst and helps to pick up their energy for a time, but it does nothing to dull the hunger pangs. When they stop to rest upon a fallen tree, Rey chuckles aloud to find herself daydreaming about the dense, tasteless sponge of polystarch bread.

“First Order fare isn’t that much better,” Kylo admits when she shares the source of her joke, “although the soup…. The soup isn’t bad.”

“Ohhh, bread and soup,” Rey says with a soft moan, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. “I’d give anything for it.”

Kylo says nothing. Though his gaze stays on her long past it should, until he catches himself staring and shakes out of his reverie with a flush of embarrassment.

“Colourful bugs should be avoided,” he says suddenly, moving to inspect the fallen tree, “and anything with spines or stingers.”

“Avoided for what, exactly?” Snapping a branch, Rey picks idly at the prone trunk; the layers of softened bark peeling back like shedding skin.

“For eating.” Kylo looks to her with a raised brow, “are you squeamish about eating insects?”

“No, not at all.” To prove her point, Rey teases out a fat grub from within the crumbling wood and holds up its undulating body between thumb and forefinger. “Would this be edible then?”

“Most likely.” He watches, expression sceptical.

“Excellent.” Slipping it into her mouth, Rey rolls it around her tongue before biting into its body with a pop. The creature’s warm juices explode towards the back of her throat and she swallows it quickly before her mind can repel it. “Delicious.”

“I’d like to see you say that about something with an exoskeleton,” he quips, “and crunchy, grasping legs.”

“Don’t underestimate what a desert rat will eat,” she smiles, fishing out another grub and holding it out to him on her palm, “your turn.”

He draws his gaze from her hand to her face, “Oh no, you have it. Since you enjoyed the last one so much.”

“Chivalrous of you.” Rey says dryly, and swallows it whole this time.

As they move on, Kylo continues to share his knowledge of rainforest edibles. “Fruits, if you can find them. But avoid plants with white or yellow berries. Don’t eat anything with milky sap, or shiny leaves. And most of all, don’t go near mushrooms. Some are edible, but unless you know what you’re looking for, there's very little difference between them and the ones that’ll land you in a coma.”

“How do you know this stuff?” Rey asks, chewing a young fern frond that seems on the safe list.

Kylo is silent for a time, until just as Rey thinks he’s not going to answer, he mutters a quiet, “Luke.”

The _I don’t want to talk about my past_ cue slides right past her. “Did Master Luke teach you these things when training you to become a Jedi?” She watches him work the reply with his jaw before opting to swallow it.

“Talking wastes energy.”

Rey sighs at the sudden shift in his mood as he lengthens his strides and cleaves ahead. The gabber of momongs high in the canopy above them fill the silence left in his wake

It hasn’t escaped Rey’s attention that in the twenty-four or so hours that have passed since waking upon this planet, she’s had rest and food - and Kylo is yet to have either. And she’s willing to bet his determination to mask his injuries are taxing him far more than he cares to admit.

Neither can quite hide their relief when they finally push their way through the dense tangle of forest and reach the shelter.

“We won’t stop here for long,” Kylo says, dropping his cloak to the floor and falling upon it like a lead weight.

“Uh-huh. Of course not. I wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable.” Rey raises a brow as he splays out on his stomach, head resting upon his arms, without so much as bothering to take off his mucky boots.

“You’ll get sores on your feet if you’re not careful,” she chastises.

“Don’t care,” comes the mumbled response.

“I’ll wind up having to carry you.”

A muffled grunt serves as his reply.

“Which I won’t do, of course,” she continues, “I’ll just leave you for the Trandoshans. Then when they come to retrieve you, I’ll take their speeder. How’s that for a convenient way of killing two birds with one stone?”

Silence.

A tiny, opportunistic voice pushed to the front of her mind, urging her that now would be the time to do exactly that. Leave him here, and beat a trail back through the forest that the Trandoshans can’t miss. It’s no less than what he deserves for all that he's done.

Except, she doesn’t really believe that. And she’s not that kind of person, even if she did. Sighing, she kneels beside him and begins unbuckling his boots. It seems a strange, intimate task, and not one she’s in the least bit comfortable with. But the Supreme Leader is out cold and oblivious. Not stirring even when she hauls off the mud-encrusted boots, peels off his damp socks and hiffs the footwear through the shelter doorway.

“You’ll thank me later,” she murmurs, pulling an edge of the cloak around him. “Actually, you probably won’t.”

She casts a look over Kylo’s sleeping form. Even in the dim filtered light of the shelter, the purple bruises on his face stand out hard against his pale skin. She wonders again if they were inflicted before or after he was tranquilised. Afterwards, she suspects grimly, unable to imagine anyone capable of giving him such a beating if he were conscious.

“You should have joined me, Ben,” she whispers, laying a hesitant hand upon the bruise at his cheek before tucking a wayward lock of hair behind his ears, “when you had the chance.”

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Rey pushes herself back to her feet and leaves the shelter. She needs to find them food. And if all else fails, at least she knows where to find grubs.

* * *

By the time Rey has fashioned a spear from a felled branch, the sun has finally passed its highest point in the sky. Her efforts to catch momongs, frogs or anything other than mosquitos proves to be futile and, stomach rumbling furiously now, she follows the pond as it narrows into a creek before converging into a river.

The fast flowing water fills her with trepidation as she watches it from the silty loam of the bank, but Luke Skywalker is on her mind as she picks her way across the rocks until she stands in the middle with feet placed wide upon two rocks and her spear poised above the fast-flowing water between them. If the old Jedi learned to hunt channel fish on the near-barren Ahch-To, so could she.

“It would be nice to have a little guidance right now, Luke,” she mutters, “perhaps a pointer or two on how to do this!”

A silvery flash of movement below catches her eye and she thrusts the spear into the water, pulling it out in triumph to discover she had caught --

Absolutely nothing.

“If it’s Luke’s guidance you’re seeking to catch fish, perhaps you should try using the Force to lift them out of the water.”

Rey wobbles on her rocky perch before catching her footing and turning to face Kylo; barefoot at the river’s edge with boots in hand. His hair is sleep-tousled and he looks no more well-rested than he had a few hours earlier. She resists the urge to tell him as much. “How did you sneak up on me?”

“You were busy trying to commune with a ghost,” placing his boots on the ground, Kylo unbuckles his wide belt, peels off his tunic and lays them on a rock before tugging up the hem of his undershirt.

“What are you doing?” Spinning away, Rey returns her attention to the river surface, her gaze fixed on the water swirling about the rocks as she tries to ignore the sound of more items dropping to the pile. “You should be resting!”

“I’m making use of this planet’s primitive bathing faculties. And I don’t rest well.” His voice grows closer as he wades into the current. “It’s safe to look. I’m not naked.”

“I don’t need to look at _you_ ,” Rey says sharply, ignoring the heat that flushes her cheeks, “I’m looking for fish.”

But her eyes dart to him despite herself, and she holds her gaze steady on his face as she offers a tight smile, “you might want to be careful of leeches.”

He grins then, before submerging himself fully and swimming deeper into the river, allowing the current to carry him downstream.

“Idiot,” she mutters, resuming her search for fish. But there’s a stupid tightness in her chest that stays lodged in place until she catches sight of him in her peripheral, his strokes broad and strong as he swims back towards her.

“There’s no leeches, the current is too fast.” He pulls himself up onto her rock and she shuffles further towards the edge to allow him space; aware suddenly of how huge his frame is when he’s looming wet and near-naked beside her.

“Well good,” she glances to the contoured muscles of his back before quickly blinking away, “because I wouldn’t help prise them off.”

“Had you been giving that some thought?” There’s a lightness to his voice that surprises her -- the short rest must have done him some good after all.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the response is a tad too quick, even to her own ears, and she quickly scrubs a hand across her cheek as if it might wipe away the blush she can feel searing her skin.

“May I?” turning towards her, Kylo wraps a hand around the spear, just atop of her own tightly clenched hold. Water from his hair runs in rivulets down his face, forcing him to blink hard as it catches in his lashes. He gives his head a shake to flick the sodden hair from his eyes - the action so _at ease_ that for a moment Rey can only stare, wordless; unsure how the man standing beside her now can be the same one she left sleeping in the shelter.

“Do you think you know what you’re doing?” she challenges, sucking in a breath as he returns his doe-eyed attention to her. _Eyes on face. Eyes on face._

“No,” he shrugs, and her traitorous peripheral is aware of how his broad chest expands as he sucks in a deep breath, releasing it slowly in a draft of warm air that ruffles the loose hairs of her crown. “But I’ll figure it out.”

It surprises her that his voice can be so casual. As if there’s nothing at all strange about him standing a foot away wearing little more than --

She drops her gaze then. Just for a moment. Simultaneously relieved to see he’s kept at least _some_ of his underclothes on and horrified at the way her line of vision insists on dipping back to the lightly-muscled planes of his stomach.

“It’s all yours,” she manages in a rush of escaping air, eyes suddenly searching for anything to look at except _him_. “The spear. Go for it.”

“Thanks,” he tugs the sharpened stick from her still-fastened grasp before turning away, seemingly oblivious to her awkwardness.

Annoyed suddenly, Rey jumps down from the rock with a splash. “Well, I’ll leave it to you then.”

She can feel Kylo’s gaze on her back as she wades to the bank, and forces herself to slow. To sit upon the soft groundcover with legs outstretched before her as if she hasn’t just lost her cool for no good reason.

From the corner of her eye, she watches him move to an area of the river where the current runs slower, and she kicks herself for not thinking of that first. She digs her fingers into the soft damp groundcover, pulling up tiny leaves and absent-mindedly tearing them to tinier shreds as he plunges the spear into the water, pulling it clear to find that, like her previously, he has caught nothing.

Rey huffs in relief, amused by the surge of competitiveness that almost sends her reaching for the staff-length piece of driftwood that she spies, sun-bleached like bone, bobbing at the river’s edge. Instead, she lies back against the soft loamy soil of the bank and rests her hands behind her head. The river is wide enough to press back the trees and cleave a view to the muted blue sky and she stares up at slow-moving clouds, allowing herself to be lulled by birdsong and the occasional splashes as Kylo continues his quest to catch fish.

Closing her eyes, Rey reaches out with her mind and envisions the Force surrounding her, funneling into all living things. The spores within soil. The cells within trees… She envisions it, just as Luke taught her on Ahch-To. But she can’t _feel_ it.

The light thrum of the Force pulsing beneath her skin is as still and silent as it’s been since she woke on this planet.

Perplexed, she tries again, brows furrowing in concentration as she clenches her fingers into balls at her side. Trying now to tap into the Dark. The rage of the river as it barrels over rocks downstream. The decomposition of creatures that once lived, buried under layers of leaf mould in the forest. The necessity of death that calls darkness to balance the light.

The response is nothing. She feels _nothing_.

A low growl of frustration builds within her as she tries to awaken that familiar thrum of the Force but…

“Are you okay?”

A shadow is thrown upon her as Kylo looms above her, blocking the sun. Rey flinches from the water that drips from him and rolls to push herself to her feet. “Oi! What’s that about?”

“You looked… in pain,” he shrugs, turning towards his clothing, warming on their rock. “Not that I care, of course.”

“I’m fine. I was just concentrating on…” Rey stops herself short of admitting her concerns, “stuff.”

“Right. Stuff.” Kylo tilts his head at her, his lips poised on forming a question that doesn’t make it past his throat. “Well, we’re too exposed here. Let’s keep moving.”

Rey snorts as he begins to tug his pants over still-damp skin. “You’re the one who’s too exposed.”

He turns, “huh?”

“Nothing.” Rey casts a glance to the sky. The sun has begun its slow slide towards the horizon at last. “So how many fish did you catch?”

“We need to focus on edible plants,” comes his muffled reply as he pulls his undershirt over his head, “not animals that require a fire to cook.”

“You couldn’t catch anything, could you?” Rey grins as he reaches for his tunic. “The mighty Kylo Ren could not catch a fish.”

“My skill set lies in catching renegade Jedi,” the quirk of a smile touches his lips as he shoves his feet into his boots and moves to sling his tunic and belt over one arm.

“And you’re not very good at that, either.” Rey returns, stepping out of his range in case he should try to prove otherwise.

“Are you sure about that?” In a flash, Kylo dips to pick up the discarded spear, twirling it in one hand as if it’s a staff.

“Oh, you’re so out of your league,” the competitiveness suppressed earlier rises again as Rey sweeps up the sun-bleached length of driftwood and spins into an offensive stance as she turns back to face him.

Grinning, Kylo moves in a half-circle, forcing Rey closer to the water’s edge as he gives himself better footing. Seeing his tactic, Rey steps forward with a downward strike and pushes him back, smiling as he parries with a certain kind of awkwardness that reassures her he’s used to fighting with a saber, not a staff.

“You need a teacher,” she quips, remembering the time he said the same thing to her.

Kylo snorts, and strikes hard, coming at her with a series of lunges and swings that push her closer to the river with astonishing ferocity; as if driven to prove that what he lacks in skill, he makes up for with power.

Ducking beneath a savage swing, Rey brings her staff around and slams him across the shoulder before jabbing it towards his face; missing his chin by a finger's breadth as he jerks back out of reach.

“I’m not sure if killing each other now is an effective way of getting off this planet,” Kylo blocks another blow and inhales sharply as Rey’s stick catches him hard across the fingers.

“Are you afraid?” she laughs, flicking her weapon around and forcing him to block again.

“Of my mother’s wrath were I to kill her young prodigy?” Kylo flicks back his hair with a jerk of his head before locking his eyes with her own, “terrified.”

Rey stops then, lowering her guard and leaving herself open to his attack. “Really?”

“No.” He lunges, thrusting the spear towards her. She smacks his weapon away in the nick of time and for a full minute they’re both fighting in earnest; thrusting and parrying and spinning until finally, Rey takes Kylo’s legs out from under him with a low sweep that lands him flat on his back. Wincing and winded.

“Well you’re lucky I do fear for your mother,” Rey stops the downward thrust of her staff - just inches from his throat, “were I to kill her prodigal son.”

“Ha!” Kylo shoves the weapon out of his face, although he makes no effort to rise, “you assume two things quite wrongly. One, that she’d ever harm you for killing me, and two, that I’d ever return.” At her blank look, he clarifies. “The _prodigal son_ is supposed to return.”

“I don’t fear that she’d harm me,” Rey says, throwing her makeshift staff to the ground, “I fear what it would _do to her_ \- to truly lose you.”

“She _has_ truly lost me.”

“No. I don’t believe that.”

Kylo rolls to his feet and stalks forward, expression dark as his knuckles whiten on the spear he still holds. “What do I need to do, to get this through to you? _I am not the person you want me to be._ ”

Rey steps back, buffeted by the sudden brunt of his anger. “I don't want you to _be_ anyone --”

“No. You _do_.” He bites, eyes ablaze as he stops inches short of her. “You romanticize the idea of Ben Solo - yet you don’t even know who Ben Solo was! Well, let me tell you. He was angry. No less angry than Kylo Ren. The only difference between them? Ben Solo was weak, naive and pathetic. _I. Am. Not._ ”

For a moment he lingers, face close enough for them to share the same breath.

“You’re wrong,” she says quietly. Fiercely. Enraged by his sudden turn in mood as much as the nature of its cause. Enraged even more so by the truth of his words. “You’re nothing but pathetic.”

And then she’s wheeling away, snatching up her makeshift staff as she leaves him on the river bank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I questioned long and hard the river scene playing out the way it did (and I've still been changing things right up to posting). Kylo and Rey are, imo, a couple of total space virgins, but when I wrote of Kylo peeling off his clothes in front of her I kind of thought of it as an extension to the shirtless Force bond scene from TLJ where Kylo is completely nonplussed at turning to Rey half-naked, while she meanwhile is having a hard time looking/not looking at him.
> 
> Oooh, and I'm sorry about that ending. See, I wanted to bring a bit of UST into the story, but at the same time… They’re still enemies on two sides of a war. And as much as they keep dropping their guard and having moments of at least behaving amicably towards each other, I still have to keep them at each other’s throats a little bit by having them remember that fact. But I guess you probably know to expect that, given the title and premise of this story...
> 
> Please let me know your thought on this fic so far! The next instalment will be out on Sunday-ish. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm eternally grateful for @theoriginalsuki for the beta-reading and encouragement and @SassyArtichoke for cheerleading this chapter. (I once again made a few changes to a good third of this fic before posting which probably defeated their efforts but... It was the side effect of the last-minute changes I'd made to the last chapter. Gah!)
> 
> And of course, I'm eternally grateful to those who've left comments and kudos! It's so beneficial to know what is and isn't working in the story so if you have a spare moment, please drop a comment and let me know what you think. :)

It’s nearly dark when Kylo returns to the campsite. His energy still so turbulent, Rey can almost feel it preceding him, like a spark lighting a trail beneath her skin.

Except _that’s_ just her imagination. Her connection to the Force is still severed. She knows this to be true - she’s been sitting outside the shelter, meditating in an effort to feel its thrum again, for _hours_.

Still, she anticipates Kylo’s arrival well before he comes into view. And it’s probably the careless crashing of undergrowth that gives him away.

“I thought you weren’t coming back.” She says coolly. Eyes still closed as she senses him standing above her. _Looming,_ her brain offers.

“You thought, or you hoped?” there’s a raw edge to Kylo's voice. As if he’s spent a lot of time yelling.

“Which answer do you think you deserve?” It’s not fair for her to say this. She knows it as soon as the words spill from her mouth. But she clenches her jaw together to press back an apology.

“I returned for my cloak,” he says stiffly, “and because I thought you might want _this._ ”

She cracks open an eye to that, and notices he’s holding a bundle of something in his arms. A part of her would like to be too proud to accept whatever he has to offer. But hunger is a motivating thing, and already her stomach gurgles at the thought of something - anything - to eat. “Go on then.”

She looks at Kylo fully then, noticing the dried blood upon his knuckles, the deep dark hollows that have returned beneath his eyes, and how impossibly pale his face is against the mottled bruising. If he looked exhausted earlier, he is utterly haggard now.

“Oh, just sit down,” she sighs. And then, when he refuses to budge, “ _please?_ ”

That catches him.

“It’s not much,” he adjusts his long limbs so that he sits cross-legged, “but they're safe to eat.”

He unfolds a broad, glossy smooth leaf to reveal three large egg-shaped objects packaged within. Their tough-looking surface a muted orange, and covered in short fat spikes.

"I recognised them from childhood," he adds, seeing her questioning face. "State dinners. That kind of thing.”

Rey reaches out to poke at one. “What kind of creatures are these?”

“They’re not creatures, they’re fruit. Meiloorun fruit.” Kylo’s poker-face is almost immaculate. But for the twitch that catches the corners of his lips.

“Of course,” she nods, brow furrowing at the suspicion that he might be laughing at her, “that makes more sense.”

The twitch evolves into a smile. Rey stares, confounded by the dimples that curve around his mouth. Transforming him.

And then he’s glancing away, sculpting his face back into the habitual mask he continues to hide behind. It’s just as well, Rey thinks, curling her fingers into her palms as she reminds herself of who he is; of who he wants to be remembered as.

It’s just as well.

* * *

“So how do we eat them?”

Blinking, Kylo returns his gaze to Rey. “We?”

“Well, you hardly expect me to eat them all myself, do you?”

He hesitates. It would be so easy to sit here and share meilooruns with the would-be Jedi. Amicable even. He can already anticipate the way her face will light when she takes her first bite of the sweet, pulpy fruit. The sheer pleasure that will spark within her eyes; warming him.

And that’s precisely the problem.

“Do what you wish with them,” he says finally. And the anger that flares to taint his words is aimed at his own self. “I’m just here to retrieve my cloak.”

“So that’s it? You’re leaving?” Rey leaps to her feet and follows him as he steps into the shelter. “What about your promise then?”

“What promise?” He swings around, only to pull up sharp as he almost collides into her.

“We’re supposed to be working together. The enemy of my enemy and all that?”

As he turns towards his cloak, Rey moves to intercept; snatching it up and clutching it to her chest with one hand while laying the other on his arm. “We’re supposed to team up until we can find a ship to get us off this damn planet - you can't deny me the opportunity to fight to the death over which of us gets to pilot it!”

“Is that the way it’s supposed to go down?” Her grin is almost his undoing. And there’s his stupid mouth again, trying to pull itself into a smile. He clamps down. Reminds himself that she’ll be calling him _Ben_ again soon if he doesn’t watch himself.

“I assume so? Though we’re likely to kill _each other_ in a fight to the death, so I’d settle for a round of Rock, Flimsi, Scissors?”

In the half-dark, he can see the way her teeth glitter as she grins at him. Kylo sighs. This will never do. “I need to be alone.”

And he makes good on the threat this time. Turning on his heel and, stalking back towards the tangled darkness of the forest.

* * *

“What about your cloak?” Rey demands, following him until she feels the squish of a melon beneath her boots.

There’s a weighted pause. She can almost imagine Kylo cursing himself.

“Keep it.”

The temperature has plummeted with the sinking of the sun. Rey doesn’t press the matter. Instead, she returns to the shelter and wraps herself in the heavy fabric. But it’s a long time before she warms up. And even longer until she sleeps. She reminds herself that she’s used to people walking away from her. Used to waiting for those who have no wish to return. She should expect no different from Kylo Ren, of all people.

It doesn’t make sleep come any easier.

The fruit remains forgotten on the ground. The damaged one, an invitation for bugs to swarm. By morning, all that remains are their husks.

* * *

Of course, he returns. If not for her, then because of his own rumbling stomach. He doesn’t tread quietly, with an apologetic air. He stalks. His expression a carefully schooled mask as they meet each other over the hollowed remains of the Meiloorun fruit.

"You didn’t think to save me any?"

"Why would I?" Rey splutters, "You were happy to leave me with the lot, last night.”

“I didn’t think you’d eat _all_ of them.”

“I --” Indignant, she closes the distance between them - for the sake of jabbing a finger at his chest to drive home her next point. “If you must know, _I_ didn’t eat them.”

“Then who did?”

Frustrated, Rey throws out her hands to indicate the surrounding forest. “One of your momong friends? You evidently know rainforests better than I!”

The fight goes out of Kylo then. He opens and closes his mouth wordlessly before finally delivering a small, “oh.”

There’s something almost comical in the sheepish way he drops his shoulders. Rey struggles to keep her expression angry. “Perhaps you might like to apologise?” she prompts, hands on hips.

Kylo’s eyes dart to meet her own; his expression softening as the fight drains out of him. For a moment she thinks he will.

“Let’s go.” Sidestepping her, he ducks into the shelter and returns a minute later with his cloak fixed once more across his shoulders.

“Oi! You said I could have it!”

“I didn't mean forever.”

* * *

He leads her to the base of one of the forest’s many great twisting trees and stands to one side, arms folded as he waits for her to observe what he has already discovered amidst its broad sweeping canopy.

Sighing between her teeth, Rey studies the corded vines that wrap around the tree’s great trunk, their runners tangling over branches and reaching well beyond her line of sight.

“The vine has a symbiotic relationship to the tree,” she states, smothering the uncomfortable feeling that this is some kind of lesson. “Is this supposed to be a metaphor for our current alliance?”

“That one of us is a parasite whose only chance of surviving this forest will be to eventually choke the life from the other?” he cocks his head to one side. “I don't know, what do you think?”

“Did you really bring me all this way just to…” Rey closes her eyes and reaches within herself for a calming breath. She’s so damn hungry and exhausted and --

“No. That’s not why I brought you here at all.” Kylo's voice is closer now. Rey opens her eyes to find him standing right before her. Dark eyes giving away nothing.

“Then why?”

"Meilooruns." He points upwards, face deadpan. "They grow on these vines. See?"

Rey drags her eyes from his own and returns her attention to the tree. Now that she knows what she's looking for, the hint of orange high amidst the foliage is obvious. “Oh.”

“I picked those that I could reach yesterday.”

“Well,” she says shortly, “you’d best start climbing then.”

“Why? You’re the lighter, more nimble one. Remember?”

“Of course,” she says drolly, " _that's_ why I'm here."

Thrusting her makeshift staff into his hands, she turns to the tree and begins to climb.

* * *

Rey doesn’t like to feel indebted to Kylo Ren. It doesn’t sit well with her that he's been the one so far to find the shelter and the food. She certainly doesn’t like the fact that it was he who carried her from wherever he found her in the first place.

But with the sweet contentment of a full belly to placate her and the sticky joy of meiloorun juice running off her chin, she could _almost_ put aside her reservations and thank him - were it not for the fact that he disappeared off into the forest again as soon as she sank her teeth into the fruit.

So she holds her tongue and turns her attention to weaving a handful of vines into a shoulder harness for her driftwood staff, and when Kylo returns, he buries the discarded fruit husks to cover their trail.

* * *

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Uh-huh.” There’s an edge of wariness to Kylo’s tone.

“How exactly did you find me?” Rey picks her way across a fallen log and jumps down in front of him, determined to be the one to lead the way for once.

“Footprints.” Kylo stops suddenly to avoid colliding into her.

“You found me by footprints?”

“No. There’s footprints.” He points to an impression cast in the loamy soil. “See?”

The contoured lines of a boot heel are partial but definite. Crouching, Rey presses a fingertip to the indentation. “It’s half-dry.”

“A fresh track?” Kylo squats opposite her, expression solemn as he studies the ground.

She stares at him until he lifts his gaze. “I’ve lived my entire life upon a planet of ever-shifting sand,” she says finally, “do I look like I can answer that?”

“I’m sorry,” he deadpans, “I thought your newfound Jedi skills had made you the instant Master in All Things. Clearly, I was wrong.”

Rey opens her mouth, not sure what to say but sure she must say _something_. Kylo stops her with one finger in the air, nostrils flaring slightly, “it’s fresh.”

Eyes widening, her voice pitches with surprise, “you can tell that just from sniffing?”

Before he can answer, she leans in to smell the imprint; only to recoil from the brackish stink.

“No… I can tell from the wood fire nearby,” he says slowly, “Can’t you smell it?”

Mortified, Rey gapes, her cheeks burning as understanding sinks in. _Kylo kriffing Ren_ is laughing at her. Flustered, she moves to walk on. “Good. Great. Looks like we’ll be getting off this planet sooner than I hoped.”

“Wait,” he catches her arm, pulling her in as his expression turns serious. “You have no idea what you could be rushing into.”

“I know _that_ ,” she hisses, wrenching her arm away, “I’m going to find a tree to climb. For recon. Are you coming or what?”

* * *

For a moment Kylo watches the girl charge ahead of him. She moves swiftly but carefully, taking care not to tread on dry sticks or barge through foliage now that she’s aware someone else is nearby. She adapts quickly, he observes. It’s probably that which enabled her to raise herself on her dusty rock of a planet - though how she managed to maintain her ridiculous optimism for all those years is beyond him.

His thoughts are interrupted as she turns back, arms raised in a gesture that reiterates her last words. Nodding, he moves to follow. Grateful for the interruption. Soft thoughts breed a soft heart, and he can afford neither.

“You’ll need to give me a boost,” Rey admits unhappily as he approaches. The tree she’s selected is a broad twisting thing, with wide sprawling limbs that run horizontally to the ground for several meters before gently twisting up into the canopy. The lowest bough, however, is fractionally beyond her reach, and the trunk lacks any kind of notch or gnarl for climbing.

“Cup your hands and give me a leg up, will you?” she repeats, a slight frown wrinkled her brow as she raises a foot expectantly.

Kylo glances to her muck covered boot. “I take it you haven't learnt how to use the Force for this?”

“Use the Force to jump?” her brow creases further. “Is that possible?”

Sighing, Kylo motions her to face the tree. “Reach out.”

He watches, perplexed, as she closes her eyes; face settling into meditative concentration. Slowly she stretches her arms towards the lower branch, fingertips just shy of contact. She draws a deep breath through her nose, releasing it slowly and evenly through her mouth.

“Now what?”

The question is a breathless whisper. She's waiting, he realises, for the Force to _do something_.

Grinning, he steps in; hands settling upon Rey’s hips before he lifts her to the tree. Startled, her reaction is clumsy and flailing, but finally, she gains enough traction to pull herself onto the bough, cheeks burning as she glares down at him.

Grabbing the branch with ease, Kylo hoists himself up beside her. “What have I done to offend you this time?”

The glare only deepens as frustration and embarrassment move like thunder across her face, “I thought you were going to teach me to jump. You know, with the Force.”

He shrugs, bemused and slightly satisfied with her disappointment. “Why? I’m not your teacher, remember?”

Shifting to a crouch, he makes his way along the bough, leaving her to catch up. Or not.

* * *

As Kylo moves ahead on the lower limb, Rey scans the branches above, her mind’s eye following a twist of potential pathways as she plots her course through the canopy. Satisfied with her projections, she composes herself for a leap to the nearest branch, hesitating for a moment to try to reach into the Force… Only for her effort to once again dissipate into nothing. Undeterred, she draws upon her former skill set - that of a nimble-footed Jakku scavenger - to make the jump and work her way through the treetops.

She can’t wait to wipe the smirk from Kylo’s face when she drops ahead of him.

* * *

The fact that every time he looks back, the girl still isn’t in sight, is mildly annoying. That he keeps looking back to check, even more so. Biting back the irritation, Kylo continues along the long tapering branch as it reaches up into the trees, and leaps to the next one when it finally ends.

Is it possible he imagined the wood smoke? Perhaps. But he didn’t imagine the footprint. Hidden by the dense foliage of the treetops, he monitors the forest floor, hoping for signs of the campfire or, better yet, the damn trandoshans who dumped them here.

Where the hell has Rey gone? Kylo throws another glance over his shoulder and clenches his fists at the frustration of her absence. It’s not that he cares if she gets herself into trouble, he assures himself, it’s that he cares if she gets _him_ in trouble. Getting the hell off this planet won’t be so easy if the Jedi winds up falling in the enemy’s lap.

“Not that I care if she gets herself killed.” He reaffirms aloud, pulling himself higher into the tree.

The scent of wood smoke wafts on the breeze again, shifting his attention. It’s more tangible now. Closer. He runs the length of the wide convoluted branch and leaps to the next. Inches his way around the trunk and follows the next limb.

There are voices now. Low and deep. Their words are indistinguishable. Regardless of whether they’re his captors, it’s a moot point. They’ll have access to a damn ship, at least.

And if the girl has gotten herself lost along the way, it’s her problem. Not his. His only priority is getting back to the First Order before Hux initiates a coup. He’ll find a way to signal his mother on Rey’s behalf later.

With any luck, they’ll think she’s been liaising with the enemy and cast her out.

* * *

Rey has found the owners of the footprints.

The forest carries their low urgent voices to her, causing her to adjust her course and continue through the higher reaches of the great ancient trees, grateful for the meandering network of pathways their gently sweeping branches provide.

As the final tendrils of wood smoke lift across the breeze, she finds a vantage point in the mid-canopy and peers beyond thick glossy leaves that are as wide as dinner plates, to learn what manner of people they share the forest with. She can only hope Kylo acts with as much reservation.

In a small scrap of clearing below, a man and woman carry out an argument in muted tones, their angry hand gestures speaking louder than words as they stand over a motionless figure. Both beings are humanoid, but not precisely human. Rey inches further along her bough, trying for a better view.

“Then you’re as much a fool as the rest were!” The words snap through the air in a burst of frustration. The woman is all translucent skin and sharp angles, and she spins on her heel like a whip; ghosting in a flash of pale movement towards the treeline.

The man turns to the motionless one so that their features are obscured from Rey’s view. He speaks in soft murmurs and, curiosity stoked, she shuffles further along the narrowing bough, daring exposure as it dips slightly with her weight.

“Nah ch’pae csei s non!” The cry cuts through the forest like a ricochet. Barely daring to breathe, Rey cranes her neck down to seek the owner of this fresh voice — and meets a pair of eyes like two fire rubies staring up through the foliage. Startled, Rey almost unbalances. Her staff drops from its sling and lands with a thud beside the — c _hild_ , Rey realises in stunned surprise. For a moment she studies the small aquiline face — as blue as twilight — as the two stare at each other, unmoving. And then the young girl turns to her companions; a string of indecipherable words flying from her tongue in rapid-fire until the man rushes to her side to follow her pointing finger.

Rey has a moment to note the curious pattern of geometric tattoos upon the man’s deeply weathered face before his scrutiny falls upon her. The twist of his mouth transforms him from curious to fierce, and he stretches a hand towards her in a gesture that is at once disturbingly familiar.

Expecting to be suspended into the air or frozen into place, Rey braces herself, trying desperately to summon the Force once again — to block an attack she knows will be coming. There’s nothing to reach into. _Nothing_. Instead, to her horror, the bough cracks and strains beneath her fingertips, as if reading itself to snap. Scrambling into a semi-crouch, she steadies herself and prepares to leap to another branch.

Too late.

The tree seems to groan as it gives a sudden jerk and, losing her balance, Rey tumbles to the ground. Where she lands at their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be aiming for a mid-week posting this week, as I have uni stuff to stress out over and with only two more chapters complete, I don't want to get all caught up with where I'm at in the writing of this fic. (I'm hoping to have chapter 9 ready by the time chapter 8 is posted, and so on...) The next chapter will be up next weekend. Hope to see you back then! :)
> 
> ### THE NEWCOMERS
> 
>  **Chiss language** (sourced from a [SW translator](http://funtranslations.com/cheunh). Probably not canon. Meh.):  
> “Ch'at nuz vacosetahn are sah csah” = “the newcomers are here”  
> “Nah ch’pae csei s non” = “we go now”
> 
> [Chiss](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chiss/Legends): "The Chiss were a tall, blue-skinned Near-Human civilization from the planet Csilla in the Unknown Regions" An interesting thing to note in particular is that Force-sensitive girls have the ability to foresee the future and are used to navigate their ships. These girls are known as ‘skywalkers’. Oddly enough. (Eh, I’m not sure if that last detail is going to have any importance to this story at all, but thought it would be interesting to note.)
> 
> _Details of where the other newcomers originate from will be in the end note of the next chapter._
> 
> ### OTHER CHAPTER REFERENCES:
> 
> [Lizard, Toad, Snake ](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lizard-toad-snake)\- is a game in the SW universe similar to Paper, Scissors, Rock. I thought this might be too confusing (when Rey made her “Paper, Scissors, Flimsi” remark), and just decided to go with a chance game we Earthlings are familiar with - with a small adjustment. Which brings me to my next reference…
> 
> [Flimsiplast](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Flimsiplast) aka ‘flimsi’, is the SW version of paper.  
> [Meiloorun Fruit](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Meiloorun_fruit) \- a spikey orange-skinned melon that made its first appearance in an episode of Star Wars Rebels. It was also seen in TFA, amidst a fruit platter in Maz’s castle. The meiloorun fruit is pretty much a kiwiano (Horned Melon).


	7. Chapter 7

A startled cry punctures the air, sending a fresh wave of forest animals hurtling through the treetops in a chittering uproar. Kylo stills, ears straining to hear any further sounds over the thrumming of his pulse. Breathing deep, he tries again to tap into the Force; to pick up the binding thread of Rey’s signature. But his efforts reach only into emptiness.

The fleeing animals have come from the direction he heads in. That’s telling enough. With a boost of adrenaline, Kylo leaps one thick winding branch to the next; making his way from tree to tree as the harsh urgent words of someone who is _not_ Rey carry across the forest like a homing beacon.

* * *

Rey recovers her feet with a well-practised roll the moment she hits the ground. Snatching up her nearby staff, she brings it up into the stomach of the tattooed man before cracking it down across the back of his head as he doubles over.

“Nah!” The child darts forward and tugs at the man's shoulders before giving up and throwing herself before him; her thin blue arms stretched wide towards Rey. “Nah! Tah's nah ch'itocet!”

The words are meaningless, but Rey understands the sentiment. The child is trying to protect the man who is slowly regaining his feet - though he can’t quite pull himself back to full height.

“Who are you people?” Rey tries to deliver the question with the same ferocity as her initial strike, but all the anger and indignation has ebbed from her as she watches the way the child fusses over her injured companion. Instead, she turns her attention to the willowy woman who has reappeared from the treeline to stand implacably to one side; her colourless eyes cool and assessing.

“Answer me,” Rey demands. Adrenaline surges through her veins - even if the Force does not. “Who are you!”

A slow smile curls at the corners of the woman’s thin lips. Rey feels something brush at the edge of her mind like an oily caress. She shudders, knowing all too well what the woman is trying to do. Stepping backwards, she raises the staff again in preparation for another strike.

* * *

Dropping into the edge of the clearing, Kylo stalks towards a small group of humanoids who stand with their backs to him. His hand goes to the belt at his waist out of habit before his fingers close upon nothing.

There's no need of his lightsaber for this, he thinks as his scowl turns into a snarl. He’ll destroy them with his bare hands.

* * *

“Tah carcir sah csah.” The child grabs the tattooed hand of her companion and looks to something beyond him. Slowly the man straightens and turns.

Following their line of attention, Rey turns to see the cloaked form of Kylo Ren stepping out from the treeline. The look on his face puts her in mind of the snow-clad forest of Starkiller Base when he approached her with murder blazing hot in his eyes. This time the rage is not intended for her, but for a moment she is frozen by the striking power of his fury, all the same.

* * *

“Tah carcir sah csah.”

Kylo’s murderous stride remains unchecked as the blue-skinned child steps around the group and tugs the hand of the man who still struggles to pull himself upright. Beyond them, he's aware of a pale woman standing on the edges and watching with cool detachment. His blood pulses with a flicker of warning. He dismisses it. She's no threat.

It’s only when his gaze falls upon Rey, uninjured and stepping slowly towards him with open-mouthed surprise, that he slows.

The child releases the man’s hand and breaks free of the group to step towards him, her red-eyed stare locked on Kylo as she extends an arm and points a finger in recognition. He stops, his skin prickling with the uneasy sensation that she’s been expecting him.

* * *

“Ch'acacah ch'ah told vah.” The child says softly.

Rey steps forward.

As does the pale-eyed woman - who grabs Rey from behind and wraps an arm around her neck. With the press of something cold and sharp against her throat, Rey stops struggling and throws her energy into the Force.

Again, her efforts hit a blank wall.

* * *

“Let her go.” There is slaughter in Kylo’s voice. Cold and cruel and seething. “She’s not yours to kill.”

“Tarsh, what are you doing?” The man limps forward, only to stop when the piece of jagged metal presses harder against Rey’s throat.

“She’s our leverage,” the woman hisses. “He means to kill us.”

“Of course he’s going to kill us! You’re threatening his woman!”

Rey’s fingers dig against the arm that holds the knife, “I’m not his wom--”

“Let her go _now._ ” There are spots of red rage slowly bursting behind Kylo’s eyes. It twists his vision and courses through his blood until his body hums with electricity so raw and terrible, he can all but feel it throb at his fingertips. “I will destroy --”

Before he can finish his sentence, Rey makes a sudden defence move that leaves her captor staggering backwards as she spins away. It gives Kylo a direct path to the woman, and he stalks forward, intending to deliver the very promise he was uttering.

“Nah!” A small cool hand grasps at his own. Flinching back, he looks down to see the blue-skin child attempting to appease him. “Nah! Ch'acacah ch'ah told vah!”

There’s something familiar to her language, but he can’t pick out the words. No matter, he thinks and moves again towards the woman.

“Wait!”

Now it’s the damn Jedi placing herself squarely before him. A palm upon his chest as she steps straight into his personal space. Her sudden intimacy surprises him and he hesitates, gaze flickering over the indentation pressed into the skin of her throat from the shiv. The small well of blood where the metal pierced.

“Ben, stop,” Rey’s voice is low and urgent, “think about this. They’re clearly survivors - not captors. They’re probably just scared and confused --”

Her words fall on deaf ears. But for one. “Why are you calling me --”

“ _Ben_ ,” Rey stops him once more, her voice dropping to a hush as she leans up to whisper at the cusp of his ear, “consider it best to not let them know who you are.”

“You’re assuming I plan to let them live long enough to make introductions,” he whispers back, dropping his head closer to add, “it’s not that I care if you die… I just don’t intend to let _them_ kill you.”

“Perhaps we can start this again,” Rey says suddenly, spinning away from Kylo but keeping herself planted before him. “I’m Rey, and this is Ben,” his huff of annoyance ruffles across her hair as she continues, “we were onboard a transport bound for…”

Words cloy on Rey’s tongue as her mind draws a blank. Aware of the air of expectancy that weighs between herself and those awaiting a conclusion to her sentence, she gapes, wordless and panicking as she tries to pick a location that won’t require a complex backstory.

“Chandrila,” Kylo interrupts, clapping his hands awkwardly upon Rey’s shoulders, “we were on our way to visit my folks.”

His fingers squeeze at her skin. A wave of heat rises to her cheeks as she recognises the insinuation he's just made of their relationship to each other. 

“Well,” she presses a smile to her lips, “best-laid plans, huh? Somehow our transport was compromised, and we woke up here.”

No one stirs as Rey concludes what’s possibly the weakest story she’s offered since telling Unkar Plutt a happabore broke into her AT-AT and ate a whole day’s worth of salvage.

Perhaps sensing the need to give their story some clout, Kylo relaxes his iron-clad grip, to stroke his hands across her shoulders in some semblance of affection. Rey stiffens, ignoring the goosebumps that have suddenly rippled along the path his fingertips have traced.

“So,” she squeaks, fighting the urge to kick him in the shin, “what’s your story?”

“Somewhat more believable than yours,” the woman offers, before turning away to parcel a few meagre items into a large leaf that she binds with a length of vine.

It’s the man who offers a smile. His gaze flicking from Rey to Kylo as if unsure which to settle on. “I’m Sef. My companions are Megunir,” he points to the child who offers a hesitant wave, “Mos Wull,” he indicates the unconscious one near the campfire before inclining his head towards the woman, “and Tarsh.”

The pale-skinned woman glares in response before slinging her vine-bound package across a shoulder. “Enough pleasantries. Let’s move.” Without waiting for anyone else, she strides towards the treeline.

“We’ve been here for a couple of weeks now,” Sef explains, edging backwards with a sidelong glance to Kylo before stooping to heft the unconscious and heavily armoured Mos Wull over his shoulder. “Long enough to have sourced a refuge that seems safe enough for the time being.” He glances then to the blue-skinned girl, who nods a silent affirmation. “You’re welcome to join us?”

Tarsh stops, half-turning at the edge of the clearing. “We could use him,” she calls out, nodding towards Kylo before flicking her gaze over Rey. “The other - we’ll use as bait.”

“Ignore her. She doesn’t mean it.” Sef interrupts as Rey opens her mouth to argue. “Well, I’m sure she thinks of us _all_ as bait for the Vornskyr.”

“Bait for the _what?_ ” Rey and Kylo ask unanimously.

A troubled look crosses Seb’s face as he glances down to rub absently at the interlocking diamonds tattooed on his left hand. “Look, why don’t you accompany us to our camp. There, we’ll tell you everything we know.”

He turns away, leaving Rey and Kylo the space to discuss their options.

“I don’t trust these people,” Kylo is quick to growl as he releases Rey’s shoulders from his iron-clad grip. “We need to go our own way.”

“And where do you propose we go?” Rey hisses, massaging the muscles of her neck. “They’ve been here longer than us. Perhaps they know something of the Trandoshans’ habits?”

“Or perhaps, as the pale one says, they’re going to use us as bait.”

“Are you afraid?” Rey gives an exaggerated gasp. “The mighty Kylo Ren - _afraid_?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Pulling himself taller, Kylo’s doubts resolve themselves in the set of his face. “Let’s go, before we lose them. We should at least find out where they camp.”

* * *

As he guides them to their camp, Sef explains that there had been nine of them to start with. Each waking in cramped cages within a Trandoshan slaver ship with barely enough room to pull themselves upright. Unlike Rey and Kylo, the Trandoshans released them in a large clearing and gave them seconds to run for the treeline before they opened fire. Two of their group were shot down before they made it to the trees. The rest; picked off over a handful of days.

Rey peppers them with questions. Striving to understand the detailed schematics of their situation. To learn their patterns of movement. To map out a strategy for escape. Kylo walks silently at the rear; studying the dynamics of the group with a distrustful eye.

As they enter a denser region of forest, Tarsh leads them to traps she has set, cursing in frustration to find them empty -- incredulous that she can be outwitted by tree-dwelling marsupials.

“She’s just angry that they’re smarter than her,” Sef says under his breath. In silence, they continue on.

* * *

Refuge, when they reach it, is a cave-like hollow set within one of the forest’s massive barrel-trunked trees. Its opening is deceivingly narrow and easy to miss behind the tangle of vines that drape down the trunk and conceal the oval slit of an entrance.

“How did you discover this?” Rey is in awe as they follow Sef into the dark cavern.

“Megunir led us to it,” Sef answers, “after she found us.”

“What do you mean, she _found_ you?” Kylo asks.

“Take a seat,” casting a hand towards the bare earthen floor to the right of the entrance, Sef lowers his unconscious companion to a makeshift bed of moss and soft undergrowth. “Mos was injured in an attack,” he begins to explain, “we thought we could use his ability to --”

“We should’ve left him behind,” Tarsh calls out sharply from beyond the entrance, “he’s of no use to us now.”

As Sef moves to continue their argument outside, Rey crosses to their fallen companion to look at his injuries. Mos Wull is not human, she realises with surprise as she looks upon what scaled green features she can see amidst his armouring. “What are his injuries?”

“He’s Clawdite.” Kylo observes as he moves to peer over her shoulder. “Great. Now I trust these people even less.”

Rey elbows him sharply in the ribs, “you can’t make a judgement on someone you’ve just met.”

“Why not?” he snorts, “you seem to do it all the time.”

“You were a special case, _Ben,_ ” she hisses, “and your reputation preceded y--” She stops herself from saying anything further as Sef walks back in.

“He will recover. He just needs time.” Sef moves to an area of the large hollow that forms an alcove and sits with his back to the entrance. In the shadowed light his yellow-tinged skin looks almost luminous. “Please sit, so we can talk.”

Rey moves to oblige and, after a moment of reluctant hesitation, Kylo follows.

“What did you mean before, when you said the child found you?” Kylo asks, placing himself between them. “Did you not arrive here together?”

“The girl was here before us. A survivor from a previous hunt.”

Rey and Kylo exchange glances. “How long has this been going on?” She breathes.

“Decades,” Kylo growls. “The trandoshans have been hunting Wookies in this manner since before I was born.”

"You know something of this place?" Sef asks, curious.

“I crewed with a Wookie once. He told me about it.”

“Where were you when you were taken?” Rey interrupts. “Do you remember any of it?”

“We were each abducted from various parts of the galaxy.” Sef scrubs a hand through his grey-shot hair, ruffling it into tufts. “I am from Mirial. My last memory is of my homestead. Tarsh was taken from Umbara. The child… The child is a mystery to us.”

“She’s Chiss,” Kylo said quietly. “Of the Unknown Regions.”

“I have never heard of the Chiss.” The Mirialan strokes a thumb across his chin. “What I do know is that the one thing we seem to have in common is --”

“Force-sensitivity.” Kylo interrupts, his tone darkening.

“What?” Rey looks to Kylo in surprise. “How could you know?”

“An educated guess.” Kylo holds Sef’s eyes with a levelled stare. “Am I right?”

“Yes,” The Umbrian tilts his head as he considers his guests. “As are the two of you, I assume?”

Rey feels Kylo bristle beside her and, grasping for a subject change, she turns her attention to the various objects piled to one side of the alcove. “What’s all this?”

“Things that were here before us. Things that we’ve found. All of it useful to us now.” Turning away, Sef picks up a crudely made clay carafe and offers it to them.

Rey accepts first, taking a quick sniff of its contents before tilting it towards her lips.

“Wait,” Kylo cautions, pushing the carafe away, “I don’t think you should --”

“You need not worry for her,” the Mirialan says wryly, “It’s just water from a nearby spring.”

Forcing a smile through grinding teeth, Rey says the first thing that comes into her head. “And here I was hoping for green milk.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Sef rises to his feet. “Now, I must take up my shift as sentry for this evening.” He spreads his arms towards the scattered things, “feel free to make use of anything you need. When I return, we’ll talk more of --”

“You say you were abducted.” Kylo interrupts. “Did you see your assailants beforehand? Did the trandoshans take you or were you sold to them?”

“I don't know. We each suffered memory loss from the events that surrounded our abduction. All we know is that every day or so, the hunters return. To pick us off as if we are their trophies. So when we hear them, we hide. It’s the only way to survive.”

“How do you know all of this?” Kylo shifts as if still trying to find a way to fit his large body into their confined space. “If you don’t know who your assailants are, how can you know you’re their trophies.”

For a long moment, Sef is silent. “As I told you earlier, there used to be more of us.”

* * *

“What’s your problem?” Rey turns to Kylo as the Mirialan exits the hollow. “And don’t you dare tell me you have a bad feeling! _We_ know the Trandoshans have dropped us here to hunt us - it stands to reason they’ve figured that out too.”

“Perhaps.” Unfolding himself from the floor, Kylo moves to investigate the discarded items of previous captives.

“Seems to me we’re better off working together,” Rey persists, following him, “so why do you have to act as if everyone is your enemy?”

He stops then, turning to fix her with a deadpan stare.

“Of course,” she smacks her palm to her forehead, “how could I have possibly forgotten I’m talking to the Lord of Darkness.”

Turning on her heel she leaves him, stoic and suspicious, to pick over the belongings of dead people by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who've encouraged this fic with feedback and kudos. I really appreciate you! Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter - I can handle it! (My essay was a trainwreck, the original story I submitted for another uni assessment was a dumpster fire... ~~Please say nice things to me so I can stop wallowing in despair~~ I can absolutely handle critique - what doesn't kill me makes me stronger, right? Right?!)
> 
> The next chapter will be up in a week. :)
> 
> ### The original characters
> 
> I'm not used to dealing with more than just Kylo and Rey, so these new characters were probably as painful to read as they were to write. However their temporary addition to the story is going to provide some background info and conflict for a couple of chapters or so. While the new characters themselves are invented by me, their species/race and accompanying Force abilities are canon.  
> [Chiss](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chiss) (Megunir)  
> [Mirialan](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Mirialan)(Sef)  
> [Umbaran](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Umbaran) (Tarsh)  
> [Clawdite](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Clawdite) (Mos Wull)
> 
> Why are the Trandoshans hunting Force-sensitives in particular? Because, canonically, it’s the kind of thing they like to do. I’ve chosen those whose Force-sensitivities can provide use or conflict for the story. Ie, Umbarans are cold and generally untrustworthy people, with the ability to co-erce others. Clawdites are be interesting in that they can shape-shift. They’re also generally pretty untrustworthy. In rare circumstances, Chiss girls have precognitive abilities and in some cases, telepathy. Mirialans believe in the more raw, organic form of the Force.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if anyone's still reading this, but... I'm sorry this chapter has taken such an incredibly long time to come out. It's actually just a bit of a character piece between Kylo and Rey rather than anything that moves the plot at all. Realistically, I should have developed it further (and I have been _trying_ ) but I've been sitting on this for... How long has it been since I posted last? Actually, I don't want to know. Anyway, I've been in a funk. And hectically busy with life/family/work/study juggle. In fact, I'm withdrawing from the study because I'm ridiculously lousy at juggling. It's been a long time since I've been near fanfic, or tumblr, or any kind of fandom stuff. Is Reylo even still a thing? (Serious question. I'm really out of the loop.)
> 
> This chapter's dedicated to [SassyArtichoke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyArtichoke/pseuds/SassyArtichoke) because I meant to message you a long time ago, and the length of time in which I didn't just became longer and longer... And now the Reylo site we used to message on isn't even around anymore!?
> 
> One last thing! Any semblance between the eating habits of the Chiss child and Baby Yoda are entirely accidental - this chapter was sitting in my draft folder long before The Mandalorian came out! (Yes, it's been that long. Blimin heck.)

The refuge is well placed. Beyond the great tree, the forest’s lower canopy is dense enough to prevent an airspeeder from cutting through. Sparse sunlight filters through vines that dangle like tasseled curtains from the great twisting boughs of native trees, while a network of thick roots run across the forest floor like raised arteries before plunging back into the earth.

It’s a good place, Rey thinks, to lay low for a while. To plan their next move- before the hunters make theirs.

Taking a seat upon an exposed root wide enough to form a bench, she watches the Mirialan shimmy up a nearby tree to take up his sentry position amidst the upper canopy. Nearby, the Chiss child chases an insect as large as her dark-blue palm. Rey smiles, warmed for a moment by the young girl’s game. Until the child pops the insect into her mouth, bracing herself as it tries to escape between her teeth, before stilling the creature with a popping crunch.

Blanching, Rey looks away; reminded in that moment of the green milk Luke drank from the Thala-sirens of Ahch-To. She's certain that even in her most extreme of hunger, she could never eat live bugs. But then her stomach rumbles with an audible gurgle; calling her a liar. She tells herself it was the fleeting memory of polystarch bread that caused the hunger pang. 

Kylo’s appearance, when he stalks into her side-vision, is preceded by a surging roll of agitation. Rey almost feels the need to brace herself - as the child did once the insect was in her mouth - as he closes in.

“Something wrong?” She shoots him a sidelong glance as he seats himself beside her with far more grace than his large frame would suggest him capable of.

“Is that a joke?” Kylo stops at the withering look she gives him before answering the question himself. “Of course it is.”

Rey quells the retort forming in her head and turns away. It’s unsettling, she thinks, how quickly she’s adjusted to his presence. In search of a distraction, she leans forward to curl her fingers into the soft damp soil at her feet. “What do you make of the child?”

“The Chiss girl?” Kylo asks, as if there could be any other. “What is there to make of her?”

“How do you think she ended up here? Alone? She must be what, eight? Nine?” Rey flounders. She’s never met enough children to know the first thing about determining their age. “Young enough to need her parents, at least?”

“Does it matter?” Kylo leans back, stretching out his legs before him. “She’s Chiss.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rey bites her lip as irritation wells within her. Why did she ever attempt to strike up any kind of discussion? Of course he would find a way to be argumentative.

“I _mean_ the Chiss separate Force-sensitive girls from their parents when very young to serve as Navigators for their fleet.”

“Navigators?” she frowns, further irritated by the way he speaks as if he expects she should know. “I don’t understand.”

“The Chiss are an enigma. But I know that Force sensitivity amongst them is rare,” Kylo’s agitation eases as he warms to the chance to pass on his knowledge of the mysterious race. “Those few born with Abilities are exclusively female and tend to possess either precognition or, rarer yet, telepathy. Precognitives are used by the Chiss defence fleet to navigate the Unknown Regions.”

“Because the Unknown Regions are unpredictable to all but those who can see the dangers ahead of time.” Rey nods, understanding.

“Precisely.”

“So how could Trandoshans capture a Force-sensitive Chiss child, if they’re so highly-coveted? Surely they’d be kept safe on their ships?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps you should ask the Trandoshans, the next time we meet them?”

Rey rolls her eyes, “how do you know so much of the Chiss, anyway? I’d never even heard of them before today.”

“Well it’s not surprising --” Kylo begins. And then seeing Rey’s scowl deepen, he holds up a placating hand, “I’m not trying to insult you, but the Chiss are a mystery to most. Besides,” he pauses for a moment, jaw working as he considers his words, “how much could someone such as yourself know of other races - having grown up alone on a dusty rock in the backwater of the galaxy?”

Eyes narrowing to hard flints, Rey silently contemplates his arrogance as a flush of indignation sends heat to her cheeks. Kylo holds his expression still and solemn; as if he hasn’t recognised his insult. Finally, she grinds beneath clenched teeth, “ret kebbur less be a shabuir bal get brokar kar'taylir droten?” 

For a moment she gleans some amusement from the way Kylo’s mouth drops in astonishment.

“What was that?” 

“Oh, you don’t know?” Arching an eyebrow, she bites back a bitter smile, “but I thought you knew everything? What, with you being so cultured, so educated…”

“Alright you’ve made your point,” he says tersely, “I’m a jerk.”

Rey stares, mouth agape. “I’m sorry, what did you just say? I don’t think I heard you properly?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kylo jerks his head away, dark locks covering whatever dark scowl his face holds.

“No, no, I need to hear that again. Please. I’m not quite sure I heard it right the first time...”

“Seriously, stop it.”

Rey throws her head back then, a peal of laughter bubbling up from within her like some long pent up thing in need of release. It feels good, to lose herself in a moment. 

“Are you actually _daring_ to laugh at me?” 

“Yes, I am,” she gasps, collecting herself enough to add, “and you can’t do anything about it because we’re in a _relationship_ , remember?”

The mortification on the Supreme Leader’s face gives the Jedi free reign to laugh harder. 

“Stars, I wish you two would shut up.”

The command snaps through the air. Rey looks up to see Tarsh striding towards them, all sharp teeth and bone-white limbs as she stands over them with the skiv clasped once again in her hands. 

“Your braying can be heard across the forest. Are you _trying_ to bring the hunters down upon us?”

“Braying?” Sobering, Rey glances to Kylo who has already reset his expression into one of mild distaste as he eyes the woman, “I don’t _bray_ do I?”

“That depends,” he says evenly, not taking his gaze from the Umbaran.

“On _what_?”

“On how hard you’ll hit me if I say yes.” His lip twitches, and for an astonishing moment, it almost seems as if he might allow a smile - before he bites his cheek to stifle it and the carefully-schooled veneer falls into place once more.

“You’re a real piece of work,” Rey begins, “not that I expect anything less -”

“Perhaps you could do something useful,” Tarsh interrupts again, “like check the traps. Prove you’re good for something other than bait.”

“Perhaps you might like to get out of our space,” Kylo returns, his voice cool and even, “before traps and Trandoshans become the least of your concerns?”

It’s only when the woman flicks her eyes to Kylo’s glove-clad hand, that Rey realises he’s placed it atop of her own. She braces against the urge to flinch away, and levels her gaze at the woman, fingers curling beneath the sudden press of Kylo’s hand. The Umbaran holds her position over them for a moment longer before turning on her heel and striding back across the camp.

Once the woman is out of earshot, Rey snaps her hand out from beneath Kylo’s own. “I didn’t need you to stand up for me. I’m not helpless - I chose not to engage.”

Kylo says nothing, but returns his hand to his lap; expression inscrutable as he watches the Umbaran resume her previous position at the base of a tree. “That was wise of you,” he says quietly, turning to meet her eyes with his solemn doe-brown gaze. “As a Force-user, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. But just as you called me Ben to prevent them from knowing who I am, consider it best that they believe you helpless. For now.”

“I think I’ve already proved to Tarsh that I’m anything but.” She returns hotly, thinking of the attack the woman tried to launch on her earlier.

“So, your former life made you skilled in self-defence,” he shrugs, “let her think nothing more than that. Let them think _I’m_ the Force-sensitive the Trandoshans were hunting for, and you were taken by-proxy.”

“Why should _you_ get to be the Force-sensitive one?” She can hear the childish ring in her tone, but in the heat of the moment, she doesn’t care. “Aren’t you the one who should be hiding any trace of Force-ability, least they figure out who you really are?”

Kylo doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, he takes the time to consider his words; chewing them as if they’ve taken solid form within his mouth. “I suspect Tarsh already knows I wield the darkside.” 

“Why? Just because you _look_ like some Lord of Darkness, doesn’t mean you ar--” Rey stops, her lips twisting in an ironic smile. “Well, I suppose it does, come to think of it.”

“It’s not about how I look. It’s about how we tend to sense our own kind.”

“Huh.” Rey thinks for a moment of the darkness she felt when Luke first taught her of the Force. Of how it pulled to her. And how she let it. She wonders how much of that darkness Kylo has sensed in her. And then understanding dawns. “Wait, you’re saying Tarsh is a darksider?”

By way of answer, Kylo turns his attention back to the Umbaran, who has settled herself cross-legged on the ground; fingers tightening around the scrap of metal in her hands. Rey follows his gaze and starts in surprise to see blood bloom around her palm as the edge cuts into her hand. Still, the woman’s knuckles pale further as her pressure upon the weapon increases.

“Why is she…”

“It’s a darkside tactic,” he murmurs. “Inflicting pain upon oneself strengthens one’s connection with the dark side of the Force. We can’t trust any of these people. And we certainly can’t trust _her_.”

Rey turns slowly to face him. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

Kylo meets her look with a droll, unflinching stare. 

For a moment Rey recalls the forest of Starkiller Base and the brutality Kylo inflicted upon himself when he slammed his fist into the bowcaster wound in his side. His reason for doing so makes sense now, she realises. It enhanced his rage - and his strength. She winces at the memory. But not before an image of Han in his final moments, raising his palm to his son’s face, flickers through her mind.

“I’m nothing like either of you,” the words slip whisper-thin between her teeth in an exhalation of air; her mind still on Han’s fall. And the ferocious twist of Kylo’s face as he slammed his fist into his side. The murder in his eyes as he seethed --

“Are you alright?”

Rey drags her eyes to meet Kylo’s own. The contrast between then and now brings her back to the present. The look of murder he once wore has been replaced by something else. Something she doesn’t want to give too much thought to. Swallowing hard, she brings her mind to the topic at hand. “You hit yourself when we fought.”

“Which time?” he blinks, confusion furrowing his brow.

“Starkiller. When Chewie gave you _this_ ,” unthinking, she presses her fingertips to where she knows his bowcaster scar to be, “for killing your father.”

Kylo flinches from the hand that rests against the fabric of his tunic. A sharp breath draws in through his lips with a hiss. “Yes, I did.”

For a silent moment Rey searches his eyes. “Ky--”

“We find out what they know,” he interrupts flatly, “and then we move on.”

He leaves her then. As if by touching his wound she’s reopened it afresh. And she supposes that in a sense, she has. Killing his father is a scar Kylo will always carry, Rey suspects. And one that may never be healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Ret kebbur less be a shabuir bal get brokar kar'taylir droten?”_ \- “Perhaps try being less of a jerk and start getting to know people?” (Rough translation of Mandalorian, thanks to https://funtranslations.com/starwars)
> 
>  **Rey’s knowledge of alien languages** was documented in Rey’s Survival Guide by Jason Fry. She had an old Y-Wing computer in her AT-AT through which she ran flight sims (this is why a scavenger who’s never left Jakku can fly the Falcon like a boss), and learned a variety of alien and droid languages. I used creative license to decide Mandalorian could be one of those languages.


End file.
